The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER XIV

  RICHMOND IN GALA DRESS

  From the moment Virginia seceded from the Union it wan a foregoneconclusion that Richmond would be the capital of the newConfederacy--not only because the great Virginian was the Father of theCountry and his glorious old Commonwealth the mother of States andPresidents, but because her soil must be the arena of the first greatbattle.

  On May 23, the Provisional Congress at Montgomery adjourned to meet inRichmond on July 20, and Jefferson Davis began his triumphal processionto the new Capital.

  Jennie Barton, her impulsive father, the Senator, Mrs Barton, withtemper serene and unruffled, and Signor Henrico Socola of the SardinianMinistry, were in the party. Dick Welford and two boys were already inVirginia with their regiments. Tom was in New Orleans with RaphaelSemmes, fitting out the little steamer _Sumter_ for a Confederatecruiser.

  Senator Barton had been requested by the new President to act as hisaide, and the champion of secession had accepted the honor underprotest. It was not of importance commensurate with his abilities, butit was perhaps worth while for the moment until a greater field wasopened.

  The arrangement made Socola's association with Jennie of doubleimportance. As the train whirled through the sunlit fields of the Southhe found his position by her side more and more agreeable andinteresting. She was a girl of remarkable intelligence. He had observedthat she was not afraid of silence. Her tongue was not forever going. Infact she seemed disinclined to talk unless she had something to say.

  He glanced at her from the corners of his dark eyes with a friendlysmile.

  "You are serious to-day, Miss Jennie?"

  "Yes. I wish I were a man!"

  "You'd go to the front, of course?"

  "Yes--wouldn't you?"

  "For _my_ country--yes--"

  He paused a moment and went on carelessly:

  "Your older brother, the Judge, will fight for the Union?"

  The sensitive lips trembled.

  "No--thank God. He has sent my mother word that for her sake and minehe'll not fight his father and younger brothers in battle. He's going todo a braver thing than march to the front. He's going to face hisneighbors in New Orleans and stand squarely by his principles."

  "It will take a brave man to do that, won't it?"

  "The bravest of the brave."

  The train was just pulling into a sleepy Southern town, the tracksrunning straight down the center of its main street. A company was drawnup to salute the new President and cheering thousands had poured in fromthe surrounding country to do him honor. They cheered themselves hoarseand were still at it when the train slowly started northward. Thecompany which greeted their arrival with arms presented were on boardnow, chatting, shouting, singing, waving their caps and handkerchiefs totear-stained women.

  The country through which the Presidential party passed had beensuddenly transformed into a vast military camp, the whole population warmad.

  Every woman from every window of every house in sight of the train waveda handkerchief. The flutter of those white flags never ceased.

  The city of Richmond gave their distinguished visitor a noble reception.He was quartered temporarily at the Spotswood Hotel, but the CityCouncil had purchased the handsomest mansion in town at a cost of$40,000 and offered it to him as their token of admiration of hisgenius.

  Mr. Davis was deeply touched by this mark of esteem from Virginia, butsternly refused the gift for himself. He accepted it for the ConfederateGovernment as the official residence of the President.

  Socola found the city a mere comfortable village in comparison with NewYork or Boston or Philadelphia, though five times the size ofMontgomery. He strolled through its streets alone, wondering in whichone of the big old-fashioned mansions lived the remarkable Southernwoman to whom his Government had referred him for orders. He must awaitthe arrival of the messenger who would deliver to him in person itsdescription. In the meantime with tireless eye he was studying thephysical formation of every street and alley. He must know it, everycrook and turn.

  Until the advent of the troops Richmond had been one of the quietest ofall the smaller cities of America. Barely forty thousand inhabitants,one third of whom were negro slaves, it could boast none of the displaysor excitements of a metropolis. Its vices were few, its life orderly andits society the finest type of the genuine American our country haddeveloped.

  Rowdyism was unknown. The police department consisted of a dozen"watchmen" whose chief duty was to round up a few straggling negroes whomight be found on the streets after nine o'clock at night and put themin "the Cage" until morning. "The Cage" was a ramshackled woodenbuilding too absurd to be honored by the name of prison.

  The quiet, shady streets were suddenly transformed into the throbbing,tumultuous avenues of a crowded Capital--already numbering more than onehundred thousand inhabitants.

  Its pulse beat with a new and fevered life. Its atmosphere was tensewith the electric rumble of the coming storm--everywhere bustle, hurryand feverish preparations for war. The Tredegar Iron Works had doubledits force of men. Day and night the red glare of the furnaces threw itssinister glow over the yellow, turbulent waters of the James. With everythrob now of its red heart a cannon was born destined to slay a thousandmen.

  Every hill was white with the tents of soldiers, their camps stretchingaway into the distant fields and forests.

  Every street was thronged. Couriers on blooded horses dashed to and frobearing the messages of imperious masters. From every direction came thecrash of military bands. And over all the steady, low rumble ofartillery and the throbbing tramp of soldiers. In every field and woodfor miles around the city could be heard the neighing of horses, thebugle call of the trooper, the shouts of gay recruits and the sharpcommand of drilling officers.

  The rattle of the ambulance and the long, red trenches of the uncoffineddead had not come yet. They were not even dreamed in the hearts of theeager, rollicking, fun-loving children of the South.

  There were as yet no dances, no social festivities. The town was soldiermad. Few men not in uniform were to be seen on the streets. A man incitizen's clothes was under suspicion as to his principles.

  With each train, new companies and regiments arrived. Day and night thetramp of soldiers' feet, the throb of drum, the scream of fife, thegleam of bayonets.

  Everywhere soldiers were welcomed, feted, lionized. The finest ladies ofRichmond vied with one another in serving their soldier guests. Societyturned out _en masse_ to every important review.

  Southern society was melted into a single pulsing thought--the fight indefense of their homes and their liberty. In the white heat of thismighty impulse the barriers of class and sex were melted.

  The most delicately reared and cultured lady of society admitted withoutquestion the right of any man who wore a gray uniform to speak to herwithout introduction and escort her anywhere on the streets. In not asingle instance was this high privilege abused by an insult, indignityor an improper word.

  Socola saw but one lady who showed the slightest displeasure.

  A dainty little woman of eight, delicately trained in the ways of politesociety, was shocked at the familiarity of a soldier who had dared tocaress her.

  She turned to her elderly companion and gasped with indignation:

  "Auntie! Did you ever! Any man who wears a stripe on his pantaloons nowthinks he can speak to a lady!"

  Socola laughed and passed on to inspect the camp of the famous HamptonLegion of South Carolina.

  His heart went out in a sudden wave of admiration for these Southernpeople who could merge thus their souls and bodies into the cause oftheir country.

  The Hampton Legion was recruited, armed and equipped and led by WadeHampton. Its private soldiers were the flower of South Carolina'ssociety. The dress parades of this regiment of gentlemen were theadmiration of the town. The carriages that hung around their maneuverswere as gay and numerous as the assemblage on a fashionable race course.Each member of this famous legion
went into Richmond with his trunks andbody servant. They, too, were confident of a brief struggle.

  A kind fate held fast the dark curtains of the future. The camp was apicnic ground, and Death was only a specter of the dim unknown.

  Just as Socola strolled by the grounds, the camp spied the handsomefigure of young Preston Hampton in a pair of spotless yellow kid gloves.They caught and rolled him in the dust and spoiled his gloves.

  He laughed and took it good naturedly.

  The hardier sons of the South held the attention of the keen, observingeyes with stronger interest. He knew what would become of those trunksand fine clothes. The thing he wished most to know was the quality andthe temper of the average man in the Southern ranks.

  Socola met Dick Welford suddenly face to face, smiled and bowed. Dickhesitated, returned his recognition and offered his hand.

  "Mr. Welford--"

  "Signor Socola."

  Dick's greeting was a little awkward, but the older man put him at onceat ease with his frank, friendly manners.

  "A brave show your _Champ de Mars_, sir!"

  "Does look like business, doesn't it?" Dick responded with pride. "Wouldyou like to go through the camps and see our men?"

  "Very much."

  "Come, I'll show you."

  Two hundred yards from the camp of the Hampton Legion they found theLouisiana Zouaves of Wheat's command, small, tough-looking men withgleaming black eyes.

  "Frenchmen!" Dick sneered. "They'll fight though--"

  "Their people in the old world have that reputation," Socola drylyremarked.

  Beyond them lay a regiment of fierce, be-whiskered countrymen from thelower sections of Mississippi.

  "Look out for those fellows," the young Southerner said serenely."They're from old Jeff's home. You'll hear from them. Their fathers allfought in Mexico."

  Socola nodded.

  Beside the Mississippians lay a regiment of long-legged, sinewy riflemenfrom Arkansas.

  A hundred yards further they saw the quaint coon-skin caps of John B.Gordon's company from Georgia.

  Socola watched these lanky mountaineers with keen interest.

  "The Raccoon Roughs," Dick explained. "First company of Georgiavolunteers. They had to march over two or three States before anybodywould muster them in. They're happy as June bugs now."

  They passed two regiments of quiet North Carolinians. The youngNortherner observed their strong, muscular bodies and earnest faces.

  "And these two large regiments, Mr. Welford?" Socola asked.

  "Oh," the Virginian exclaimed with a careless touch of scorn in hisvoice, "they're Tarheels--not much for looks, but I reckon they'll_stick_."

  "I've an idea they will," was the serious reply.

  Dick pointed with pride to a fine-looking regiment of Virginians.

  "Good-looking soldiers," Socola observed.

  "Aren't they? That's my regiment. You'll hear from them in the firstbattle."

  "And those giants?" Socola inquired, pointing to the right at a group oftall, rude-looking fellows.

  "Texas Rangers."

  "I shouldn't care to meet them in a row--"

  "You know what General Taylor said of them in the Mexican War?"

  "No--"

  "_They're anything but gentlemen or cowards._"

  "I agree with him," Socola laughed.

  "What chance has a Yankee got against such men?" Dick asked with a wagof his big blond head.

  "Let me show you what they think--"

  Socola drew a leaf of _Harper's Magazine_ from his pocket and spread itbefore the young trooper's indignant gaze.

  The cartoon showed a sickly-looking Southerner carrying his musket underan umbrella accompanied by a negro with a tray full of mint juleps.

  "That's a joke, isn't it!" Dick roared. "Will you give me this paper?"

  "Certainly, Monsieur!"

  Dick folded the sheet, still laughing. "I'll have some fun with this incamp to-night. Come on--I want to show you just one more bunch of thesesickly-looking mint-julipers--"

  Again the Southerner roared.

  They quickened their pace and in a few minutes were passing through thecamps of the Red River men from Arkansas and Northern Louisiana.

  "Aren't you sorry for these poor fellows?" Dick laughed.

  "I have never seen anything like them," Socola admitted, looking ontheir stalwart forms with undisguised admiration. Scarcely a man wasunder six feet in height, with broad, massive shoulders and chests andnot an ounce of superfluous flesh. Their resemblance to each other wasremarkable. Nature had cast each one in the same heroic mold. The spreadof giant unbroken forests spoke in their brawny arms and legs. The lookof an eagle soaring over great rivers and fertile plains flashed intheir fearless eyes.

  "What do you think of them?" Dick asked with boyish pride.

  "I'd like to send their photographs to _Harper's_--"

  "For God's sake, don't do that!" Dick protested. "If you do, we'll neverget a chance to see a Yankee. I want to get in sight of 'em anyhowbefore they run. All I ask of the Lord is to give me one whack at thoselittle, hump-backed, bow-legged shoemakers from Boston!"

  Socola smiled dryly.

  "In five minutes after we meet--there won't be a shoe-string left fit touse."

  The dark face flashed with a strange light from the depths of the sombereyes--only for an instant did he lose self-control. His voice was velvetwhen he spoke.

  "Your faith is strong, M'sieur!"

  "It's not faith--we know. One Southerner can whip three Yankees anyday."

  "But suppose it should turn out that he had to whip five or six or adozen?"

  "Don't you think these fellows could do it?"

  Socola hesitated. It was a shame to pull down a faith that could removemountains. He shrugged his slender shoulders and a pensive look stoleover his face. He seemed to be talking to himself.

  "Your President tells me that his soldiers will do all that pluck andmuscle, endurance and dogged courage, dash and red-hot patriotism canaccomplish. And yet his view is not sanguine. A sad undertone I caughtin his voice. He says your war will be long and bloody--"

  "Yes--I know," Dick broke in, "but nobody agrees with him. We'll showold Jeff what we can do, if he'll just give us _one_ chance--that's allwe ask--just _one_ chance. Read that editorial in the Richmond_Examiner_--"

  He thrust a copy of the famous yellow journal of the South into Socola'shand and pointed to a marked paragraph:

  "From mountain top and valleys to the shores of the seas there is onewild shout of fierce resolve to capture Washington City at all and everyhuman hazard!"

  The North was marching southward with ropes and handcuffs with which toend in triumph their holiday excursion on July 4. The South was marchingto meet them with eager pride, each man afraid the fight would be overbefore he could reach the front to fire a single shot. And behind eachgay regiment of scornful men marched the white silent figure of Death.