Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XXIX

  THE FALL OF RICHMOND

  Two long lines of earthworks faced each other across a sodden field;overhead a chilly sky let fall a chilly rain; behind the low ridges ofearth two armies faced each other, and whether in rain or in sunshine,no head rose above either wall without becoming an instant mark for arifle that never missed. Here the remorseless sharpshooters lay. Humanlife had become a little thing, and after a difficult shot theyexchanged remarks as hunters do when they kill a bird on the wing.

  If ever there was a "No Man's Land," it was the space between the twoarmies which had aptly been called the "Plain of Death." Any one whoventured upon it thought very little of this life, and it was well thathe should, as he had little of it left to think about. The armies hadlain there for weeks and weeks, facing each other in a deadlock, and afierce winter, making the country an alternation of slush and snow, hadsettled down on both. The North could not go forward; the South couldnot thrust the North back; but the North could wait and the South couldnot. Lee's army, crouching behind the earthen walls, grew thinner andhungrier and colder as the weeks passed. Uniforms fell away in rags,supplies from the South became smaller and smaller, but the lean andragged army still lay there, grim and defiant, while Grant, with thememory of Cold Harbour before him, dared not attack. He bided his time,having shown all the qualities that were hoped of him and more.Tenacious, fertile in ideas, he had been from the beginning the one toattack and his foe the one to defend. The whole character of the war hadchanged since he came upon the field. He and Sherman were now the twoarms of a vise that held the Confederacy in its grip and would never letgo.

  Prescott crouched behind the low wall, reading a letter from his mother,while his comrades looked enviously at him. A letter from home had longsince become an event. Mrs. Prescott said she was well, and, so far asconcerned her physical comfort, was not feeling any excessive stress ofwar. They were hearing many reports in Richmond from the armies. Grant,it was said, would make a great flanking movement as soon as the warmerweather came, and the newspapers in the capital gave accounts of vastreinforcements in men and supplies he was receiving from the North.

  "If we know our Grant, and we think we do, he will certainly move," saidPrescott grimly to himself, looking across the "Plain of Death" towardthe long Northern line.

  Then his mother continued with personal news of his friends andacquaintances.

  * * * * *

  "The popularity of Lucia Catherwood lasts," she wrote. "She would avoidpublicity, but she can scarcely do it without offending the good peoplewho like her. She seems gay and is often brilliant, but I do not thinkshe is happy. She receives great attention from Mr. Sefton, whose powerin the Government, disguised as it is in a subordinate position, seemsto increase. Whether or not she likes him I do not know. Sometimes Ithink she does, and sometimes I think she has the greatest aversion tohim. But it is a courtship that interests all Richmond. People mostlysay that the Secretary will win, but as an old woman--a merelooker-on--I have my doubts. Helen Harley still holds her place in theSecretary's office, but Mr. Sefton no longer takes great interest inher. Her selfish old father does not like it at all, and I hear that hespeaks slightingly of the Secretary's low origin; but he continues tospend the money that his daughter earns.

  "It is common gossip that the Secretary knows all about Lucia's lifebefore she came to Richmond; that he has penetrated the mystery and insome way has a hold over her which he is using. I do not know how thisreport originated, but I think it began in some foolish talk of VincentHarley's. As for myself, I do not believe there is any mystery at all.She is simply a girl who in these troublous times came, as was natural,to her nearest relative, Miss Grayson."

  * * * * *

  "No bad news, Bob, I hope," said Talbot, looking at his gloomy face.

  "None at all," said Prescott cheerily, and with pardonable evasion.

  "There go the skirmishers again."

  A rapid crackle arose from a point far to their left, but the men aroundTalbot and Prescott paid no attention to it, merely huddling closer inthe effort to keep warm. They had ceased long since to be interested insuch trivialities.

  "Grant's going to move right away; I feel it in my bones," repeatedTalbot.

  Talbot was right. That night the cold suddenly fled, the chilly cloudsleft the heavens and the great Northern General issued a command. A yearbefore another command of his produced that terrific campaign throughthe Wilderness, where a hundred thousand men fell, and he meant thissecond one to be as significant.

  Now the fighting, mostly the work of sharpshooters through the winter,began in regular form, and extended in a long line over the torn andtrampled fields of Virginia, where all the soil was watered with blood.The numerous horsemen of Sheridan, fresh from triumphs in the Valley ofVirginia, were the wings of the Northern force, and they hung on theflanks of the Southern army, incessantly harrying it, cutting offcompanies and regiments, giving the worn and wounded men no respite.

  Along a vast, curving line that steadily bent in toward Richmond--theSouthern army inside, the Northern army outside--the sound of the cannonscarcely ever ceased, night or day. Lee fought with undiminished skill,always massing his thin ranks at the point of contact and handling themwith the old fire and vigour; but his opponent never ceased the terriblehammering that he had begun more than a year ago. Grant intended tobreak through the shell of the Southern Confederacy, and it was nowcracking and threatening to shatter before his ceaseless strokes.

  The defenders of a lost cause, if cause it was, scarcely ever knew whatit was to draw a free breath. When they were not fighting, they weremarching, often on bare feet, and of the two they did not know whichthey preferred. They were always hungry; they went into battles on emptystomachs, came out with the same if they came out at all, and they hadno time to think of the future. They had become mere battered machines,animated, it is true, by a spirit, but by a spirit that could take nothought of softness. They had respected Grant from the first; now,despite their loss by his grim tactics, they looked in wonder andadmiration at them, and sought to measure the strength of mind thatcould pay a heavy present price in flesh and blood in order to avoid agreater price hereafter.

  Prescott and Talbot were with the last legion. The bullets, afterwounding them so often, seemed now to give them the right of way. Theycame from every battle and skirmish unhurt, only to go into a new onethe next day.

  "If I get out of all this alive," said Talbot, with grim humour, "Iintend to eat for a month and then sleep for a year; maybe then I'llfeel rested."

  Wood, too, was always there with his cavalry, now a thin band, seekingto hold back the horsemen of the North, and Vincent Harley, ever a goodsoldier, was his able second.

  In these desperate days Prescott began to feel respect for Harley; headmired the soldier, if not the man. There was no danger too great forHarley, no service too arduous. He slept in the saddle, if he slept atall, and his spirit never flinched. There was no time for, him to renewhis quarrel with Prescott, and Prescott was resolved that it shouldnever be renewed if there were any decent way of avoiding it.

  The close of a day of incessant battle and skirmish was at hand, andclouds of smoke darkened the twilight. From the east and from the westcame the low mutter and thunder of the guns. The red sun was going downin a sea of ominous fire. There were strange reports of the deeds ofSheridan, but the soldiers themselves knew nothing definite. They hadlost touch with other bodies of their comrades, and they could only hopeto meet them again. Meanwhile they gave scarcely a glance at the loneand trampled land, but threw themselves down under the trees and fellasleep.

  A messenger came for Prescott. "The General-in-Chief wishes you," hesaid.

  Prescott walked to a small fire where Lee sat alone for the present andwithin the shelter of the tent. He was grave and thoughtful, but thatwas habitual with him. Prescott could not see that the victor ofFredericksburg and Chancellorsville h
ad changed in bearing or manner. Hewas as neat as ever; the gray uniform was spotless; the splendid sword,a gift from admirers, hung by his side. His face expressed nothing tothe keen gaze of Prescott, who was now no novice in the art of readingthe faces of men.

  Prescott saluted and stood silent.

  Lee looked at him thoughtfully.

  "Captain Prescott," he said, "I have heard good reports of you, and Ihave had the pleasure also to see you bear yourself well."

  Prescott's heart beat fast at this praise from the first man of theSouth.

  "Do you know the way to Richmond?" asked the General.

  "I could find it in a night as black as my hat."

  "That is good. Here is a letter that I wish you to take there anddeliver as soon as you can to Mr. Davis. It is important, and be sureyou do not fall into the hands of any of the Northern raiders."

  He held out a small sealed envelope, and Prescott took it.

  "Take care of yourself," he said, "because you will have a dangerousride."

  Prescott saluted and turned away. He looked back once, and the Generalwas still sitting alone by the fire, his face grave and thoughtful.

  Prescott had a good horse, and when he rode away was full of faith thathe would reach Richmond. He was glad to go because of the confidence Leeshowed in him, and because he might see in the capital those for whom hecared most.

  As he rode on the lights behind him died and the darkness came up andcovered Lee's camp. But he had truly told the General that he could findhis way to Richmond in black darkness, and to-night he had need of bothknowledge and instinct. There was a shadowed moon, flurries of rain, anda wind moaning through the pine woods. From far away, like the swell ofthe sea on the rocks, came the low mutter of the guns. Scarcely ever didit cease, and its note rose above the wailing of the wind like a kind ofsolemn chorus that got upon Prescott's nerves.

  "Is it a funeral song?" he asked.

  On he went and the way opened before him in the darkness; no Northernhorsemen crossed his path; the cry of "Halt!" never came. It seemed toPrescott that fate was making his way easy. For what purpose? He did notlike it. He wished to be interrupted--to feel that he must struggle toachieve his journey. This, too, got upon his nerves. He grew lonely andafraid--not afraid of physical danger, but of the omens and presagesthat the night seemed to bear. He wondered again about the message thathe bore. Why had not General Lee given some hint of its contents? Thenhe blamed himself for questioning.

  He rode slowly and thus many hours passed. Mile after mile fell behindhim and the night went with them. The sun sprang up, the golden dayenfolded the earth, and at last from the top of a hill he saw afar thespires of Richmond. It was a city that he loved--his home, the scene ofthe greatest events in his life, including his manhood's love; and as helooked down upon it now his eyes grew misty. What would be its fate?

  He rode on, giving the countersign as he passed the defenses. With thepure day, the omens and presages of the night seemed to have passed.Richmond breathed a Sabbath calm; the Northern armies might have been athousand miles away for all the sign it gave. There was no fear, noapprehension on the faces he saw. Richmond still had absolute faith inLee; whatever his lack of resources, he would meet the need.

  From lofty church spires bells began to ring. The air was pervaded witha holy calm, and Prescott, with the same feeling upon him, rode on. Helonged to turn aside to see his mother and to call at the Graysoncottage, but "as soon as possible," the General had said, and he mustdeliver his message. He knocked at the door of the White House of theConfederacy. "Gone to church," the servant said when he asked for Mr.Davis.

  Prescott took his way to Doctor Hoge's church, well knowing where thePresident of the Confederacy habitually sat, and stiff with his night'sriding, walked and led his mount. At the church door he gave the horseto a little negro boy to hold and went quietly inside.

  The President and his family were in their pew and the minister wasspeaking. Prescott paused a few moments at the entrance to the aisle. Noone paid any attention to him; soldiers were too common a sight to benoticed. He felt in the inside pocket of his waistcoat and drew forththe sealed envelope. Then he slipped softly down the aisle, leaned overthe President's pew and handed him the note with the whispered words, "Amessage from General Lee."

  Prescott, receiving no orders, quietly withdrew to a neighbouring vacantpew and watched Mr. Davis as he opened the envelope and read the letter.He saw a sudden gray pallor sweep over his face, a quick twitching ofthe lips and then a return of the wonted calm.

  The President of the Confederacy refolded the note and put it in hispocket. Presently he rose and left the church and Prescott followed him.An hour later Richmond was stricken into a momentary dumbness, soonfollowed by the chattering of many voices. The city, the capital, was tobe given up. General Lee had written that the Southern army could nolonger defend it, and advised the immediate departure of the Government,which was now packing up, ready to take flight by the Danville railroad.

  Richmond, so long the inviolate, was to be abandoned. No one questionedthe wisdom of Lee, but they were struck down by the necessity. Panic ranlike fire in dry grass. The Yankees were coming at once, and they wouldburn and slay! Their cavalry had already been seen on the outskirts ofthe city. There was no time to lose if they were to escape to thefarther South.

  The streets were filled with the confused crowd. The rumours grew; theysaid everything, but of one thing the people were sure. The Governmentwas packing its papers and treasures in all haste, and the train waswaiting to take it southward. That they beheld with their own eyes.Great numbers of the inhabitants, too, made ready for flight as bestthey could, but they yet preserved most of their courage. They said theywould come back. General Lee, when he gathered new forces, would returnto the rescue of the city and they would come with him. The women andthe children often wept, but the men, though with gloomy faces, badethem be of good cheer.

  Prescott, still with no orders and knowing that none would come, walkedslowly through the crowd, his heart full of grief and pity. This was hisworld about him that was falling to pieces. He knew why the night hadbeen so full of omens; why the distant cannon had escorted him likefuneral guns.

  His first thought was now of his mother, and his second was of LuciaCatherwood, knowing well that in such a moment the passions of all thewild and lawless would rise. He hurried to his home, and on his way hemet the Secretary, calm, composed, a quiet, cynical smile on his face.

  "Well, Mr. Sefton," said Prescott, "it has come."

  "Yes," replied the Secretary, "and not sooner than I have expected."

  "You are leaving?" said Prescott.

  "Yes," replied Mr. Sefton, "I go with the Government. I am part of it,you know, but I travel light. I have little baggage. I tell you, too,since you wish to know it, that I asked Miss Catherwood to go with us asmy wife--we could be married in an hour--or, if not that, as a refugeeunder the escort of Miss Grayson."

  "Well?" said Prescott. His heart beat violently.

  "She declined both propositions," replied the Secretary quietly. "Shewill stay here and await the coming of the conquerors. After all, whyshouldn't she? She is a Northern sympathizer herself, and a great changein her position and ours has occurred suddenly."

  Their eyes met and Prescott saw his fall a little and for the firsttime. The sudden change in positions was, indeed, great and in manyrespects.

  The Secretary held out his hand.

  "Good-by, Captain Prescott," he said. "We have been rivals, but notaltogether enemies. I have always wished you well where your success wasnot at the cost of mine. Let us part in friendship, as we may not meetagain."

  Prescott took the extended hand.

  "I am sorry that chance or fate ever made us rivals," the Secretary wenton. "Maybe we shall not be so any longer, and since I retire from thescene I tell you I have known all the while that Miss Catherwood was nota spy. She was there in the President's office that day, and she mighthave been one had she yielde
d to her impulse, but she put the temptationaside. She has told you this and she told you the full truth. The onewho really took the papers was discovered and punished by me long ago."

  "Then why----" began Prescott.

  The Secretary made a gesture.

  "You ask why I kept this secret?" he said. "It was because it gave mepower over both you and her; over her through you. I knew your part init, too. Then I helped Miss Grayson and her when she came back toRichmond; she could not turn me away. I played upon your foolishjealousy--I fancy I did that cleverly. I brought her back here to drawyou away from Helen Harley and she drew me, too. She did not intend it,nor did she wish it; but perhaps she felt her power ever since thatmeeting in the Wilderness and knew that she was safe from anydisclosures of mine. But she loved you from the first, Captain Prescott,and never anybody else. You see, I am frank with myself as I have triedalways to be in all respects. I have lost the field and I retire infavour of the winner, yourself!"

  The Secretary, bowing, walked away. Prescott watched him a minute ortwo, but he could see no signs of haste or excitement in the compact,erect figure. Then he hastened to his mother.

  He found her in her parlour, prepared as if for the coming of some one.There was fervent feeling in her look, but her manner was calm as sheembraced her son. Prescott knew her thoughts, and as he had never yetfound fault with them he could not now at such a time.

  "I know everything, Robert," she said. "The Government is about to fleefrom Richmond."

  "Yes, mother," he replied, "and I brought the order for it to go. Is itnot singular that such a message should have been delivered by your son?Your side wins, mother."

  "I never doubted that it would, not even after that terrible day at BullRun and the greater defeats that came later. A cause is lost from thebeginning when it is against the progress of the human race."

  There was mingled joy and sadness in her manner--joy that the causewhich she thought right had won; sadness that her friends, none the lessdear because for so many months they had taken another view, shouldsuffer misfortune.

  "Mother," Prescott said presently, "I do not wish to leave you, but Imust go to the cottage of Miss Grayson and Miss Catherwood. There arelikely to be wild scenes in Richmond before the day is over, and theyshould not be left alone."

  The look that she bent upon her son then was singularly soft andtender--smiling, too, as if something pleased her.

  "They will be here, Robert," she said. "I expect them any minute."

  "Here! in this house!" he exclaimed, starting.

  "Yes, here in this house," she said triumphantly "It will not be thefirst time that Lucia Catherwood has been sheltered behind these walls.Do you not remember when they wished to arrest her, and LieutenantTalbot searched the cottage for her? She was at that very moment here,in this house, hidden in your own room, though she did not know that itwas yours. I saved her then. Oh, I have known her longer than youthink."

  Stirred by a sudden emotion Prescott stooped down and kissed his mother.

  "I have always known that you were a wonderful woman," he said, "but Igave you credit for less courage and daring than you really have."

  Some one knocked.

  "There they are now," exclaimed Mrs. Prescott, and hurrying forward sheopened the door. Lucia Catherwood and Charlotte Grayson entered. Atfirst they did not see Prescott, who stood near the window, but when histall form met their eyes Miss Grayson uttered a little cry and thecolour rose high in Lucia's face.

  "We are surprised to see you, Captain Prescott," she said.

  "But glad, too, I hope," he replied.

  "Yes, glad, too," she said frankly.

  She seemed to have changed. Some of her reserve was gone. This was agreat event in her life and she was coming into a new world withoutlosing the old.

  "Miss Catherwood," Prescott said, "I am glad that my mother's house isto be the shelter of Miss Grayson and yourself at such a time. We haveone or two faithful and strong-armed servants who will see that yousuffer no harm."

  The two women hesitated and were embarrassed. Prescott saw it.

  "You will not be bothered much by me," he said. "I have no instructions,but it is obvious that I should go forth and help maintain order." Thenhe added: "I saw Mr. Sefton departing. He bade me good-by as if he didnot expect ever to be in Richmond again."

  Again Lucia Catherwood flushed.

  "He said a like farewell to me," she said.

  Prescott's gaze met hers, and she flushed deeper than ever as her eyesdropped for a moment.

  "I hope that he has gone forever," said Prescott. "He is an able man andI admire him in many ways. But I think him a dangerous man, too."

  "Amen," said Miss Charlotte Grayson with emphasis. Lucia was silent, butshe did not seem to be offended.

  He went presently into the street, where, indeed, his duty called him.When a capital, after years of war, is about to fall, the forces of evilare always unchained, and now it was so with Richmond. Out from all theslums came the men and women of the lower world, and down by the navystorehouses the wharf-rats were swarming. They were drunk already, andwith foul words on their lips they gathered before the stores, lookingfor plunder. Then they broke in the barrels of whisky at the wharf andbecame drunker and madder than ever. The liquor ran about them in greatstreams. Standing ankle deep in the gutters, they waded in it andsplashed it over each other. Hilarious shouts and cries arose and theybegan to fight among themselves. Everywhere the thieves came from theirholes and were already plundering the houses.

  Steadily the skies darkened over Richmond and a terrified multitude keptpressing toward the railroad station, seeking to flee into the fartherSouth. Behind them the mad crowd still drank and fought in the guttersand the thieves passed from house to house. Again and again the cry wasraised that the Yankees were here, but still they did not come. Manyfancied that they heard far away the thunder of the guns, and evenPrescott was not sure. He went once to the Harley house and found Helenthere, unafraid, quieting the apprehensions of her father, who shouldhave been quieting hers. She, too, would stay. Mrs. Markham, she toldhim, was already on the train and would follow the Government. Prescottwas very glad that she had gone. He felt a mighty relief to know thatthis woman was passing southward and, he hoped, out of his life.

  Twilight came on and then the night, settling down black and heavy overthe lost capital. The President and his Cabinet were ready and wouldsoon start; the small garrison was withdrawing; an officer at the headof men with torches went about the city, setting fire to all theproperty of the Government--armouries, machine shops, storehouses,wharves. The flames shot up at many points and hung like lurid clouds,shedding a ghastly light over Richmond.

  The gunboats in the river, abandoned by their crews, were set on fire,and by and by they blew up with tremendous explosions. The reports addedto the terror of the fleeing crowd and cries of fright arose from thewomen and children. The rumours which had flown so fast in the daythickened and grew blacker in the night. "All the city was to be burned!The Yankees were going to massacre everybody!" It was in vain for thesoldiers, who knew better, to protest. The Government property, burningso vividly, gave colour to their fears.

  It seemed as if all Richmond were on fire. The city lay lurid andghastly under the light of these giant torches. Wandering winds pickedup the ashes and sifted them down like a fine gray snow. Wagons loadedwith children and household goods passed out on every road. When thePresident and his Cabinet were gone, and the whistling of the train washeard for the last time, the soldiers disappeared up the river, but thestreets and roads were still crowded with the refugees, and the fires,burning more fiercely than ever, spread now to private houses. Richmondwas a vast core of light.

  Prescott will never forget that night, the sad story of a fallen city,the passing of the old South, the weepings, the farewells, the peoplegoing from their homes out upon the bare country roads in the darkness,the drunken mob that still danced and fought behind them, and theburning city making its
own funeral pyre.

  Midnight passed, but there was still no sign of the Yankees. Prescottwished that they would come, for he had no fear of them: they would savethe city from the destruction that was threatening it and restore order.Richmond was without rulers. The old had gone, but the new had not come.

  The wheels of some belated guns rattled dully in the street, passing upthe river to join in the retreat. The horsemen supporting it filed bylike phantoms, and many of them, weatherbeaten men, shed tears in thedarkness. From the river came a dazzling flash followed by a tremendousroar as another boat blew up, and then General Breckinridge, theSecretary of War, and his staff rode over the last bridge, already seton fire, its burning timbers giving them a final salute as they passed.It was now half way between midnight and morning, and blazing Richmondpassively awaited its fate.