by Bob Young
“Patrick, I am so happy to see you. I’ve been through the most frightful morning of my life. That man is pure evil. I see it. I sense it. I feel it,” she says, her words taking on a tight, drumbeat precision.
Patrick pulls up another chair, letting its wood legs briefly squeak against the hard floor before taking a seat for himself. “I don’t disagree. I have never encountered anyone like him,” Patrick says. “Did he try to hurt you?”
“He didn’t hit me, if that’s what you mean,” Elisabeth says. “But he struck me on the inside; he’s made a wreck of my emotions.”
“Your son? What have you learned about getting him back?” Patrick asks, the words flowing so quickly as to be virtually unbroken.
“He made it sound very simple—maybe too simple—but I don’t know.” Elisabeth then hesitates.
“What did he say?” Patrick asks.
“I told him I wanted to go to Savannah, so he instructed me to book passage on the steamer Jefferson Davis, leaving from Sisters Ferry on Tuesday morning. He said that when the boat arrives in Savannah, I will be handed my son at the dock.”
“You’re right,” Patrick offers, not even having to lend the proposition any thought. “That does sound simple.” If warfare has taught him anything, it’s never to be lured by false comforts or tidy solutions.
“But he also said,” Elisabeth goes on, measuring her every word, “that if I ever return to Augusta, I will never see my son again, because I will be a dead woman. Patrick, I’m so scared!”
Elisabeth sobs. Patrick looks around, making sure that nobody is eavesdropping. He’s not embarrassed so much as worried about the contents of their words being put to misuse. She then drops her head onto Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick releases her hands, feeling their warm, frightened slickness, and wraps his arms around her. He silently holds her for what seems like a long string of minutes.
“Elisabeth,” he whispers, hoping to inspire her volume in a downward direction, “we’re going to get you and your son back together. And both of you will be safe at my folks’ house. I stake my life on that!”
Patrick may not have total certainty, but thankfully, he has time. He’s got until Tuesday, and he hopes to be mentally situated by then.
Indeed, in reality, Roads could just be happy about having her out of here, and that’s really all there is to it. But Patrick isn’t about to take that bet.
“Darling.” The word slips right from Patrick’s lips, a model of innocence and inadvertence. His speech, as of now, has caught up with his heart, and it betrays his true feelings for Elisabeth. “Darling,” he says again, “why don’t you rest here for a while? I’ve got to run a couple of errands. Then we can have dinner on the veranda and hear Cheatham’s Band here at the hotel tonight. Might make you feel better.”
Wordlessly, wiping away her tears, she nods.
* * *
A large, well-dressed, practically glimmering crowd has assembled in the Piazza of the Planters Hotel for the concert by Cheatham’s Band. There’s an especially large group of young ladies in attendance. However, there’s only one lady on hand that Patrick has any interest in, and that is Elisabeth. When she walks through the door, Patrick has a struggle prying his eyes off of her. On this night, she is strikingly beautiful, even though, unbeknownst to everyone here but Patrick, she is still wearing the same printed yellow dress that she wore to work this morning.
The music hangs wonderfully in the air, but the evening naturally gives its way over to speeches that touch on the war. And amid all of the speakers who grace the stage, there is one man in attendance that the grateful Augustans insist upon hearing from— Confederate Congressman Humphrey Marshall. The short and plump Kentuckian feigns surprise when called upon, his eyebrows ascending in the direction of the sky. A politician surprised? Indeed.
Given the volume of their applause, the people are clearly excited to have among them someone who not only fought in the Mexican Wars, but donned the uniform of Confederate gray amidst the current hostilities. General Marshall’s military career was brief yet honorable. And most hope that his remarks will be the same.
He gives the people what they want.
He tells the crowd that if other cities are filled with as many able-bodied men as Augusta has, then the Confederacy cannot be exhausted, and the enemy can anticipate a future of repression. The crowd’s cheers, whistles, and applause signal its emphatic agreement.
Marshall goes on to say that he does not have any updates on the military situation, but suffice it to say that Lee, “wherever he might be, is doing all a mortal man could do for redemption of the country.”
Ever the politician, Marshall obviously chooses not to dwell on failures, namely Lee’s surrender and Davis’ escape.
He says that it is not his place to tell Georgians what their duty is; they know as much and appreciate attending to it. As for himself, Marshall says that he entered the “contest,” as he calls it, with his eyes wide open. And whatever eventual destiny befalls the South, he “prefers expatriation or any other fate to submission.”
Well, that last line is better than music to the people’s ears. They are on their feet, letting their cheers swell to new, feverish heights. Cheatham’s Band does its best to keep the official celebration going. However, the noise of the crowd is so loud that no one can tell that the band has rejoined the celebration.
Patrick and Elisabeth smile at each other. Both are clearly enjoying the evening, not on account of its speeches and music, but because they are together, as they intend to remain for the rest of the young, still night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Finding the Stagecoach Inn in Washington is a truly easy task. It’s right on the courthouse square in the middle of town as discernible as a nose upon a face. And Patrick is pleased to take a rest at a table in the back, having walked the several dusty and crowded blocks up from the train station. He smiles subtly over the fact that Charles will be joining him soon, arriving by horseback from South Carolina.
As scheduled, on the way up from Augusta, Patrick paused for a delightful visit with Vice President Stephens at his home—Liberty Hall in Crawfordville. The large white house is a sight to be seen, dominating the high ground across the railroad tracks above the town. The setting is as beautiful and peaceful as anyone could ask for—or imagine.
Vice President Stephens and Patrick developed their friendship when Patrick was in charge of security for the official delegation to the peace mission in Hampton Roads, Virginia, last January. As opposed to being a routine assignment, the whole thing was actually quite an odd affair.
Initially, Stephens proposed a meeting between President Lincoln and President Davis. Davis, however, was uninterested in giving concessions to the North, so he was not going to be drawn into such an encounter. To Stephens’ surprise, Davis appointed Stephens to lead the delegation, which also included former U.S. Supreme Court Justice John Archibald Campbell, who is now the assistant Confederate Secretary of War, and Senator Robert M. T. Hunter of Virginia. Notably, Davis sent these men off with limited direction and no authority to negotiate.
The Treasury Office was to be responsible for the emissaries’ security, a duty that fell to Patrick. He knew how difficult the task would be, especially after they crossed over enemy lines. Adding a fresh dose of anxiety to an already tense situation, Patrick also understood that if anything happened to any of his charges, his own career would be over and the South would never be the same again.
Patrick often recalls his first encounter with Stephens. A polite gentlemen, Stephens is small in stature. Very small. “Little Alec” is what folks call him. He appears to be just shy of emaciated. But looks can be deceiving. Stephens’ clothing, especially the heavy overcoat he wore to the winter meeting, tends to cleverly conceal his small frame. On the other hand, looks aren’t everything. Within Stephens’ mind is one of the great political intellects in the Confederacy—and the Union, too, for that matter.
Of more significant imp
ortance is the fact that Stephens is an outsider in the Davis administration. The two men do not get along, nor is there much in the way of policy that they agree upon. Stephens, therefore, is always happiest when he is back in Georgia at Liberty Hall. He elects to spend little time in Richmond.
Patrick wanted the peace delegation to leave Richmond for Hampton Roads by steamer because a boat was easy to secure. However, icing on the surface of the Potomac forced them to travel by train to Petersburg, where they were to cross the Union lines to connect with General Grant at his headquarters in City Point. Patrick’s nerves were getting unusually entangled because the crossing was held up by Union paperwork. Grant later apologized for the delay, saying that he had been occupied in Washington City. But Patrick wasn’t fully convinced that the Yankees were entirely trustworthy.
With a wave of his hand, Stephens told his special agent not to worry about it, as he was enjoying the hospitality provided on Grant’s personal steamer, the Mary Martin. Indeed, Hunter and Campbell enjoyed the company of their host so much that they stayed up until after one o’clock in the morning, which of course forced Patrick to keep his bleary-eyed security team up late as well.
When the next day arrived, it brought with it yet another delay in getting the delegation to Lincoln. Again, Patrick was the one who experienced the bulk of the concern. And how could he not? He was behind enemy lines with three of the most important people in the Confederate government, and for the second time now, their mission had been delayed by Union paperwork. Patrick wanted nothing more than to believe that paperwork was all there was to it, but he was too smart to be sold on the excuses. Stephens urged him not to read anything into it, saying, “Not every pause leads to an end.”
Finally, after two energy-depleting days as Grant’s guests, the delegation found its way to Lincoln’s steamer anchored near Fort Monroe. Patrick and his men felt more than a little bit awkward aboard the Yankee president’s boat. President Lincoln, or course, had his own security with him. So the situation was one in which two security teams were eyeing each other in something of a closed, oppressive loop.
For about four hours, Lincoln and the rebel leaders spoke privately on the topics of peace and reconciliation.
From the vantage point of a security guard, the encounter seemed ordinary enough. However, on the way back home to Richmond, it was clear to Patrick that Stephens was not pleased with how the meeting had gone. In fact, the Vice President made it a point to tell Patrick that President Davis had gotten just what he wanted—a reason to rally the South against an enemy that demands nothing less than total surrender. Clearly, Stephens felt he had been used. And, while Patrick felt sorry for him, he observed the situation from enough of a distance to see that the nature of politics was to be blamed. What Patrick could not understand was why both sides would allow the bloodshed to continue.
Stephens had had enough of Davis and the Confederate government. Upon returning to Richmond, he dutifully appeared at a rally with Davis, but did not open his mouth in front of the public. Then he settled down in Georgia for retirement…and to wait for whatever fate might usher toward him.
This week, fate ushered in a Treasury agent. Patrick was impressed by Liberty Hall, and the Vice President, hardly in a rush, took all the time that was necessary to show him the house, his office and library, and the magnificent grounds. No wonder, Patrick thought, that Stephens prefers to be in Georgia.
As they pulled up a pair of chairs on the porch, Stephen’s body servant, Travis, saw to it that each man had a glass of cool water to counter the afternoon’s warmth.
Stephens wanted to know what Patrick was doing in Georgia. Patrick quickly remembered the admonition that only three people should be a party to the nature of his mission, but, after all, this was the Vice President who was asking. No, Patrick scolded himself, I cannot even tell such a high-ranking official.
And so Patrick assembled a story about being in Augusta for an audit of some kind.
Stephens admitted that he felt he’d been much maligned since the peace conference, and he actually appeared anxious to take Patrick into his confidence. He was eager to share his version of what had happened behind the closed doors on Mr. Lincoln’s steamer. Up till now, Stephens had kept his thoughts to himself. All Patrick knew about the discussions was what he had read in the newspapers over the past few months.
Stephens began his story by saying he was concerned that if the terms of peace favored the South, radical elements in the North would be inclined to open up an angry debate. On the other hand, if the terms favored the North, the people of the South would be disheartened. For these reasons, Stephens advised Davis to personally meet with Lincoln, and to keep the meeting a secret for the sake of not making waves. But Stephens’ advice was received in Richmond as it often was—by being ignored. Far from keeping it a secret, Davis telegraphed word of the conference to the farthest corners of the Confederacy.
Then, a mere two days later, Stephens was surprised and displeased to learn that he and two others would make up the delegation for the Confederacy. He knew that to refuse to go would be putting any failure to reach peace squarely on his shoulders. And so on he went, remarking to Judge Campbell “that the old story of the monkey that took the paw of the cat to pull his chestnuts out of the fire was not without some modern illustrations.”
Justice Campbell agreed and said he didn’t like the way Davis was handling the meeting either.
At the Hampton Roads gathering, Stephens made the South’s case without reservation, and Lincoln was perfectly frank in return. But frankness aside, Stephens did observe that the former Illinois attorney offered his views almost as though he were presenting some lawyerly argument. That is, without a great deal of heart or passion.
Stephens told Patrick that President Lincoln’s terms, conditions, and method for peace had not changed since his message to the Congress the previous December. Stephens went on to say that he understood clearly that Lincoln would not entertain any settlement that recognized the Confederacy or any states as a separate power. And finally, the North would not engage in a truce unless it led to a restoration of the Union.
Patrick took this in with great interest. He felt a swell of excitement upon realizing that his participation in the conference, as limited as it was, gave him a place in history.
Stephens went on to say that Lincoln had said he was not in a war for conquest because he took the position that the states never had been separated from the Union. Accordingly, Lincoln would not recognize another government inside of the one of which he alone was President.
Then Stephens described how Senator Hunter made a spectacle of himself. He began talking politics, and droned on and on till his skin turned a shade before blue. The point he argued to Lincoln was that recognizing President Davis’ power to make a treaty would be the first indispensable step toward peace. And he tried to bolster his argument by referring to the correspondence between King Charles the First and his Parliament as a reliable precedent of a constitutional ruler agreeing to a treaty with rebels.
Stephens said that Lincoln responded in kind. “I don’t propose to be bright,” he quoted the President as saying. “My only distinct recollection of the matter is that Charles lost his head.” The response had the desired effect, that of forcing Senator Hunter to quiet down.
Patrick loved what he was hearing. He appreciated that Stephens would take him into his confidence, even if he was without the ability to reciprocate.
Stephens went on to relate that Lincoln had told the Confederates that no matter what consequences might follow from the reestablishment of Union authority, they had to be accepted. But for his part, Lincoln offered mercy and pardon and influence in a deal better than rebels had grown accustomed to expecting from a victorious power.
Yet then came the disclosure that had even startled Stephens. Lincoln shared that just a day earlier, Congress had adopted a constitutional amendment to abolish slavery. Stephens quickly concluded for himself tha
t that action begged a natural question as to whether the states in rebellion should hurry to return to the Union and claim a right to vote on the amendment.
Then, according to Stephens’ account, Lincoln made a couple of candid observations. First, he posited that it would be desirable to have slavery abolished over the next six years. Second, he added that four hundred million dollars might be offered as compensation to the slaves’ owners.
That came as news to Patrick’s ears. It was the first time he had heard of anyone in the North who was willing to pay owners for the freedom of their slaves! Why had this not been disclosed earlier? The answer was hardly forthcoming from the mouth of the Vice President.
Stephens did add that overall the meeting was friendly and the parting was cordial. But back in Richmond, Jeff Davis looked upon the Union proposals as insulting, and Judge Campbell did not stand in disagreement.
The Vice President took from the table a piece of paper that he proceeded to read to Patrick:
EXECUTIVE OFFICE
Richmond, February 6, 1865
To the Senate and House of Representatives of the Confederate States:
I recently received a written notification which satisfied me that the President of the United States was disposed to confer informality with any official agents that might be sent by me with a view to the restoration of peace, I requested the Hon A. H. Stephens, Hon R. M. T. Hunter and Hon John A Campbell, to proceed through our lines and hold conference with Lincoln or such persons as he might depute to represent him.
I herewith submit for the information of Congress the report of those eminent citizens above named, showing that the enemy refused to enter into negotiations with the Confederate States or any of them separately, or give our people any other terms or guarantees than those which Congress may grant, or to permit us to have a vote on any other basis that our unconditional submission to their rule, coupled with the acceptance of their recent legislation, including amendment to the constitution emancipating all negro slaves; and with the right on the part of Federal Congress to legislative on the subject of the relations between white and black populations in each state. Such is, as I understand, the effect of the amendment to the constitution which has been adopted by the Congress of the United States.