House Divided

by Ben Ames Williams

  Cinda seldom left the house. Tilda heard that many of their friends had nothing to eat; and from their own relative abundance they sent old Caesar with baskets to those whose need was great. Yankee sutlers had pitched their tents in Capitol Square with tempting wares displayed; but they would only accept greenbacks or gold. Vesta, hearing this, set the kitchen to making pies out of those dried apples they had brought home Sunday; and the soldiers who guarded the house readily paid for them a dollar apiece in greenbacks. Vesta gave the money to Julian to buy what he could.

  Northerners were pouring into the city, doubtful womenfolk, and small traders who quickly reopened stores the fire had not destroyed, and stocked the empty shelves. Thursday, driven by hunger, some Richmond people were forced to appeal to the conquerors for food. They were given corn meal and salt fish, and were promised better fare as soon as it could be provided; and there would be ration tickets to be issued to those in need.

  Friday a soft shower fell across the city, damping out the last smouldering embers in the burnt district to leave it a black and sodden waste; but Saturday was fine again, and Sunday was as beautiful as that other Sunday a week ago, which seemed now to belong to some long-forgotten age. They went to church; but the service, so long familiar, had one change: the prayer, instead of naming President Davis, was for all those having authority. Doubtless, the conquerors had required this. Cinda was glad after church to be once more at home, the door closed against the city that was no longer Richmond but a Yankee town.

  Late that night they heard a sudden cannonade, the roar of many guns; but it was against the military regulation to leave the house after nine, so they could only guess the meaning of that uproar which went on for long. At dawn next morning the guns began again. This time they sounded at regular intervals, like tolling bells; but Cinda heard the bands playing, and shouting in the streets, and June brought her the explanation. General Lee had surrendered, with all his army.

  After the first dreadful thrust of pain, Cinda’s eyes filled with a gush of gladness. Now at last there would be a merciful end to battle and to starvation and to mutilation and to death; now Brett Dewain would come home, would come home to stay. Nations made wars and came to victory or to defeat; but it was men, dear beloved men, who fought those wars, and lived or died. That the Confederacy had lost was nothing to her now. For these four years she—or Brett—would have given life itself for victory; but that was a part of war’s madness. Now she saw more clearly: Victory was nothing, defeat was nothing, as long as Brett lived and came safely home.

  23

  March-April, 1865

  TRAV when the war began saw no possibility of Southern victory. There were six million white people in the South, twenty million in the North; say a million soldiers against three million. To boast that one Southerner could whip half a dozen Yankees sounded well, but of course it was not true; and even if it were true, the North could always draw new soldiers from Europe—thousands and tens of thousands—and the South could not. Figures, if you added them correctly, did not lie. The South could never hope to win.

  But as the months passed, facts confounded figures. McClellan marched a hundred and twenty-five thousand men to the gates of Richmond, and Lee with little more than half that many drove McClellan in headlong flight. Pope had a hundred thousand men in Northern Virginia, and Lee with scarce fifty thousand shattered Pope. McClellan brought a hundred thousand men to Sharpsburg, but Lee with thirty-five thousand stood them off. At Fredericksburg a few thousand of Lee’s men drenched the slopes in front of their position with Yankee blood. At Chancellorsville the odds were surely three to one against Lee, but look at the result!

  Perhaps figures did lie! That grand march into Pennsylvania was a triumphant parade. At Gettysburg, it was true, Lee failed to win; but it was not a beaten army which returned to Virginia. Rather it was the Yankees who, after the punishment they took in those three days, for ten long months refused every offer of battle. When at last they did advance, Lee in the thirty days of the campaign from the Rapidan to the James killed or wounded or captured more of Grant’s men than he had at any one time in his own command. Figures meant nothing, they could be ignored!

  Trav did not finally accept the certainty of eventual defeat until one March day in this spring of 1865. When the swollen river forced Sheridan to march eastward north of the James, Fitz Lee came to strengthen the Richmond defenses; but after Sheridan was no longer immediately dangerous, the cavalry was ordered back to Petersburg. At the same time, Longstreet sent Trav with a dispatch for the commanding general; and on the way Trav encountered Fitz Lee’s force, and he rode a while with Burr.

  Burr was no longer a boy, but a haggard man with seldom smiling eyes; and he saw Trav’s glance touch the gaunt horses and the wornout riders. “There aren’t many of us left, Uncle Trav.” His voice was hoarse with dust and fatigue. “Hardly fifteen hundred. We were six thousand once.”

  Such figures, at least, were facts. “There were five thousand Texas cavalry in Virginia a year or two ago,” Trav commented. “They’re down to a hundred and eighty men now.”

  “If we had the riders, we couldn’t mount them.” Burr stroked his horse’s neck. “This poor beast is so thin I hate to make him carry me.”

  “Longstreet thinks infantry might work with cavalry as they do with the guns, protect the horsemen till they’re needed.”

  Burr’s voice had no mirth in it. “Infantry protecting cavalry! General Stuart would laugh if he could hear that!”

  “But Stuart’s gone.”

  “Yes, he’s gone. When Grant moves, we’ll miss him.”

  Trav tried to speak cheerfully. “Perhaps we can keep Grant where he is, not let him move.” But there was no conviction in his words, and Burr did not reply.

  The cavalry was worn out, horses and men; but Trav before he found General Lee saw enough to realize that the infantry was worse. Longstreet’s front was inactive, and the men there found some rest and food and modest comfort; but the Petersburg front was a rabbit warren inhabited by starved men apathetic with exhaustion. Trav went directly to General Lee’s headquarters at Edge Hill, the Turnbull home on the plank road west of Petersburg. Lee had moved there late last November from the Beasley mansion on High Street in Petersburg. Before that, his headquarters had been north of the town, and Trav thought these removals told the story of the siege, for Lee moved always to confront his adversary. Each change resulted from some western extension of Grant’s lines; each such extension meant that the dwindling Confederate army had a few more yards or a few more miles of front to cover.

  At Edge Hill, Trav learned that General Lee had ridden to inspect the lines, and General Longstreet wanted an answer to his message, so Trav must find the commanding general. Thus he rode along the rear lines, and he saw to what straits the army was reduced. Soldiers sat like clods by the roadside; and many of them did not even lift their eyes to watch him pass. When they did look up, their faces were shrunken till the bones seemed about to break through the tight-drawn yellow skin, and their eyeballs were inflamed, and sometimes their lower lids sagged like the eyelids of very old men, revealing not a healthy pink but a faintly greenish hue on the inner membranes. Sometimes Trav saw them cooking their ration, a scant handful of meal and water mixed to a stiff consistency and laid on a board or a flat stone before the fire long enough to warm it through before it was gulped down. He saw men lying as though they were dead, looking like dead men since their bodies were shrunk to skin and bones and no longer filled out their ragged garments. Surely these soldiers could never muster strength to stand on their feet again.

  That day at last Trav’s heart surrendered. These men had done their utmost. It was not the Yankees who had beaten them. They were starved to the point of death. The end waited only till Grant chose his hour.

  A few days later they had intelligence that Grant was withdrawing some of the force here in front of them on the north side of the James. “He will use them to overreach our right,�
�� Longstreet commented. “He’s preparing to strike.”

  Trav’s jaw set. “What then?”

  “Why, if he shifts away from our front, we too can move, to meet his move.”

  “Leave this road to Richmond open?”

  Longstreet nodded calmly. “Leave Richmond, yes. It’s been a burden on our backs long enough.” He was almost cheerful. “An army that travels light travels fast.”

  “Will you send Mrs. Longstreet back to Lynchburg? Mrs. Currain wants to go when Mrs. Longstreet goes.”

  “General Lee will give us due warning. They can go together when the time comes.”

  The hours were breathless waiting. Pickett’s division was ordered to Petersburg, to extend the Confederate right and meet Grant’s maneuver. They heard of Gordon’s assault on Fort Steadman and its good early promise and its eventual collapse; but Trav felt no longer any emotion, either hope or fear. When on Thursday rain fell in a warm deluge, he heard men say this might clog Grant’s movements; but the rain would not last forever.

  Friday, since it was still raining, he rode into the city; and Enid told him that Mrs. Davis had fled away to safety, and asked when she and the children would go. Did he mean to leave them helpless here?

  “Mrs. Longstreet is still here. You can go when she does.”

  Lucy said steadily: “I’m not afraid to stay here, Papa. Don’t worry about us.”

  But Enid hushed her. “Don’t talk nonsense, Lucy! We should have gone long ago.”

  Trav said: “I’ll get you away if I can; but if I can’t, you’ll just have to stay.”

  Back at headquarters he learned that Pickett had driven the Yankee cavalry toward Dinwiddie Court House. That night Trav heard the rain slack and cease. The dawn was cloudy, but sun drove clouds and mist away. Toward seven o’clock in the evening, Trav and the others were with Longstreet when a telegram came from General Lee.

  The big man read it with no change of expression. “General Lee wishes one of our divisions to report to him at Petersburg,” he said calmly, and at once gave his orders. Field’s division would march into Richmond; the quartermaster would ride ahead and have trains ready for them. To leave as many cars as possible at their disposal, he and those of the staff who had no other duties would ride direct to Petersburg, crossing by the pontoon bridge. When this had been explained, he called Trav aside.

  “I think it likely,” he explained, “that Richmond will be evacuated tomorrow. However, General Lee’s dispatch goes no further than to summon one division. Will you, if you please, stay here and receive and execute any further orders from him or from me?” He hesitated. “I desire that you attend to orders first of all; but if you can then do so without neglect of greater things, you may be able to assist Mrs. Longstreet and your own family to a place on one of the departing trains.”

  So when Longstreet and the others of the staff rode away, Trav stayed behind. At full dark, Field’s division began their march into the city, moving quietly so that the enemy might not discover their withdrawal. Off toward Petersburg there was the mutter of guns in a heavy night bombardment. Trav remembered that there were government stores in Richmond; and if the regiments still here were tomorrow to withdraw through the city to join the army in retreat, they could start with loaded wagons. He roused some of the quartermaster’s men and directed them to harness their animals and take the wagons toward Richmond where they would be ready if the need arose.

  Through that long night he slept little. Sunday morning was as serene as the fine Saturday had been, but still the empty hours marched slowly by. The enemy showed no activity; and Trav thought to have a word with Brett, and rode to where the Howitzer company was withdrawn behind the lines. Brett had gone into Richmond. The chaplain, Mr. White, was about to begin the morning service, and Trav wanted to stay, for surely this was an hour for prayer; but his place was at headquarters. On his return he found General Kershaw there; and General Ewell who commanded the Richmond defenses came in his carriage to join them. The loss of his leg at Second Manassas had not damped Ewell’s fighting ardor; but in such hours as this when they could only wait, his lisp became more pronounced, he fretted, and mopped his high, bald brow; and his side whiskers and the heavy tuft upon his chin were kept in constant agitation by the movement of his jaws. In the first year of the war he had earned a reputation for picturesque profanity, but despite his restless anxiety his speech was mild today.

  The morning was almost gone when at last the order came. Kershaw’s division was to march as soon as possible, passing through Richmond; the cavalry and guns would follow at dark, using the pontoon bridge for the artillery and letting the cavalry retire by the most convenient way. Militiamen from the city would cover their withdrawal. The army would rendezvous at Amelia Court House.

  Trav saw the generals depart to give their orders. Then, since he was no longer needed here he rode toward Richmond. He came into the city past Rockett’s and up Main Street. A stir and tumult everywhere made it clear that the rumor of evacuation was already abroad. He made sure the wagons he had sent ahead were loading. A close-packed throng of ragged men and women were already gathering outside the storehouses, watching these proceedings with starved eyes and angry shouts. He spoke to the young officer in charge, asked how matters went.

  “Why, well enough so far,” the lieutenant assured him. “But I’ve had respectable gentlemen here offering me gold by the handful for a wagon and team. I think they did bribe some of my men, for we’ve lost a few wagons. That crowd’s ready to rush us any minute. I can’t do anything short of shooting, and I won’t do that. Too many poor old hags in the mob. Look at their eyes, the way they watch the food.”

  The press of people jostled closer, and one woman shrilled an entreaty. “Throw me one of them hams, Mister, will ye?”

  Trav spoke to them, loudly enough so that the nearest could hear. “We’re taking these things to feed your soldiers. They can’t fight on empty stomachs, you know.”

  The woman laughed in harsh derision. “Who’s a-fightin’? The lot of them’re running away.” And a man shouted: “Leave ’em starve! They kin run faster with holler bellies!” Cries of angry laughter mocked Trav and the young lieutenant; and Nig fretted nervously among these seething people. Trav said in a low tone:

  “Do what you can, Lieutenant. Get your wagons loaded and away. Make for Amelia Court House. And use your muskets if you have to. The men will need every ration we can give them.”

  He eased Nig through the crowd, holding the big horse steady against the hungry mob, and made his way to the Danville station. Soldiers were there, and he asked a question and was reassured. Yes, there would be cars to take the members of the Government away, and to transport what papers must be saved. There would be room for ladies, though within limits. Mrs. Longstreet? Certainly, and Mrs. Currain too; but they had better come and take their places as soon as possible.

  Trav rode up Fourteenth Street and turned along Main. Mrs. Longstreet would be at the Spottswood. Main Street was packed with people, white and black, men and women and children. If he left Nig tied to the hitch rail, someone might try to steal him; but Trav saw an officer he knew, Captain Meriden of Hood’s old brigade, with a wooden leg to replace one lost at the Wilderness, and explained his difficulty. The Captain said easily: “Certainly, Major. I’ll hold a horse to help Old Pete’s lady any time.”

  The colonnade along the front of the hotel was crowded, but Trav forced his way through. He found Mrs. Longstreet with other ladies in the hotel parlors; and he recognized familiar faces, the wives of cabinet members and officers of the Government. Mrs. Longstreet came to meet him smilingly.

  “Well, Major?” She seemed completely calm.

  “The army is to leave Richmond tonight,” he told her. “The enemy will be here, I suppose, tomorrow. The General rode to Petersburg last night. I came to put you on the cars for Lynchburg.”

  “I’m quite willing to stay, if I’m a bother.”

  “No, there will be r
oom on the cars, but you should go aboard as soon as you’re ready.”

  Her eyes for a moment shadowed. “I was in church when Mr. Davis received the news. I suppose this begins the end.” He did not speak, and she said, “My packing won’t take long, Major Currain.”

  “I’ll arrange some transportation, come as soon as I can.”

  “Why don’t you go fetch Mrs. Currain and the children? Then we’ll go together.”

  He was grateful for that permission. Nig was safe, though made nervous by the crowd. At home Big Mill met him. The Negro’s eyes were rolling, but his voice was steady. Trav had given him instructions two or three days before, so Mill had a cart and two mules ready in the stable. Trav spoke a word of praise. In the house he found Enid pacing up and down among many bags and boxes, some closed and secured, some gaping open. Lucy and Peter were quiet, watching her; and Lucy smiled when he came in.

  “Well!” Enid cried. “You finally got here! It’s high time!”

  “I’ll put you on the cars,” he said. “But not all this gear. You’ll have to carry anything you take.” That precipitated nervous tears, and a rising hysteria, but Trav silenced her. “You must come now, or else stay here.”

  Big Mill with the cart was at the door; Trav on Nig rode beside them. When they came down Eighth Street through the milling crowd, Enid was hushed with terror; but Trav found Mrs. Longstreet steady and quite composed. He and Nig opened the way for the cart down Main toward Fourteenth; and a man he had never seen before, dressed with a certain elegance, caught at his stirrup.

  “I’ll give you a thousand dollars gold for that cart, sir!”

  Trav looked at him with contemptuous eyes. Probably this was a rascal like Redford Streean, who had made his fortune but whose greed had kept him here too long. Without a word he thrust Nig forward and the big horse shouldered the suppliant aside.