Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond

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  Before the Dawn

  A Story of the Fall of Richmond

  By

  JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

  NEW YORKDOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY1903

  Copyright, 1903, byDoubleday, Page & CompanyPublished April, 1903

  OTHER BOOKS BY JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

  The Sun of SaratogaA Soldier of ManhattanA Herald of the WestThe Last RebelIn Circling CampsIn Hostile RedThe Wilderness RoadMy Captive

  For the rhyming pun, given by a member of The Mosaic Club, and quoted inthe third chapter of this book, the author is indebted to T. C. DeLeon's"_Four Years in Rebel Capitals_."

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. A Woman in Brown 3

  II. A Man's Mother 16

  III. The Mosaic Club 25

  IV. The Secretary Moves 40

  V. An Elusive Face 52

  VI. The Pursuit of a Woman 71

  VII. The Cottage in the Side Street 83

  VIII. The Pall of Winter 97

  IX. Robert and Lucia 117

  X. Feeding the Hungry 131

  XI. Mr. Sefton Makes a Confidence 137

  XII. A Flight by Two 150

  XIII. Lucia's Farewell 162

  XIV. Prescott's Ordeal 170

  XV. The Great Rivals 181

  XVI. The Great Revival 193

  XVII. The Wilderness 204

  XVIII. Day in the Wilderness 206

  XIX. Night in the Wilderness 223

  XX. The Secretary Looks On 236

  XXI. A Delicate Situation 248

  XXII. The Lone Sentinel 264

  XXIII. Out of the Forest 269

  XXIV. The Despatch Bearer 280

  XXV. The Mountain General 292

  XXVI. Calypso 300

  XXVII. The Secretary and the Lady 323

  XXVIII. The Way Out 334

  XXIX. The Fall of Richmond 346

  XXX. The Telegraph Station 360

  XXXI. The Coin of Gold 370

  BEFORE THE DAWN

  CHAPTER I

  A WOMAN IN BROWN

  A tall, well-favoured youth, coming from the farther South, boarded thetrain for Richmond one raw, gusty morning. He carried his left armstiffly, his face was thin and brown, and his dingy uniform had holes init, some made by bullets; but his air and manner were happy, as if,escaped from danger and hardships, he rode on his way to pleasure andease.

  He sat for a time gazing out of the window at the gray, wintry landscapethat fled past, and then, having a youthful zest for new things, lookedat those who traveled with him in the car. The company seemed to him, onthe whole, to lack novelty and interest, being composed of farmers goingto the capital of the Confederacy to sell food; wounded soldiers likehimself, bound for the same place in search of cure; and one woman whosat in a corner alone, neither speaking nor spoken to, her whole aspectrepelling any rash advance.

  Prescott always had a keen eye for woman and beauty, and owing to hislong absence in armies, where both these desirable objects were scarce,his vision had become acute; but he judged that this lone type of hersex had no special charm. Tall she certainly was, and her figure mightbe good, but no one with a fair face and taste would dress as plainly asshe, nor wrap herself so completely in a long, brown cloak that he couldnot even tell the colour of her eyes. Beautiful women, as he knew them,always had a touch of coquetry, and never hid their charms wholly.

  Prescott's attention wandered again to the landscape rushing past, butfinding little of splendour or beauty, it came back, by and by, to thelone woman. He wondered why she was going to Richmond and what was hername. She, too, was now staring out of the window, and the long cloakhiding her seemed so shapeless that he concluded her figure must be bad.His interest declined at once, but rose again with her silence andevident desire to be left alone.

  As they were approaching Richmond a sudden jar of the train threw asmall package from her lap to the floor. Prescott sprang forward, pickedit up and handed it to her. She received it with a curt "Thanks," andthe noise of the train was so great that Prescott could tell nothingabout the quality of her voice. It might or might not be musical, but inany event she was not polite and showed no gratitude. If he had thoughtto use the incident as an opening for conversation, he dismissed theidea, as she turned her face back to the window at once and resumed herstudy of the gray fields.

  "Probably old and plain," was Prescott's thought, and then he forgot herin the approach to Richmond, the town where much of his youth had beenspent. The absence of his mother from the capital was the only regret inthis happy homecoming, but he had received a letter from her assuringhim of her arrival in the city in a day or two.

  When they reached Richmond the woman in the brown cloak left the carbefore him, but he saw her entering the office of the Provost-Marshal,where all passes were examined with minute care, every one who came tothe capital in those times of war being considered an enemy until proveda friend. Prescott saw then that she was not only tall, but very tall,and that she walked with a strong, graceful step. "After all, her figuremay be good," he thought, revising his recent opinion.

  Her pass was examined, found to be correct, and she left the officebefore his own time came. He would have asked the name on her pass, butaware that the officer would probably tell him to mind his own business,he refrained, and then forgot her in the great event of his return homeafter so long a time of terrible war. He took his way at once toFranklin Street, where he saw outspread before him life as it was livedin the capital of the Confederate States of America. It was to him aspectacle, striking in its variety and refreshing in its brilliancy, ashe had come, though indirectly, from the Army of Northern Virginia,where it was the custom to serve half-rations of food and double rationsof gunpowder. Therefore, being young, sound of heart and amply furnishedwith hope, he looked about him and rejoiced.

  Richmond was a snug little town, a capital of no great size even in aregion then lacking in city growth, but for the time more was said aboutit and more eyes were turned upon it than upon any other place in theworld. Many thousands of men were dying in an attempt to reach thissmall Virginia city, and many other thousands were dying in an equallystrenuous effort to keep them away.

  Such thoughts, however, did not worry Prescott at this moment. His facewas set resolutely toward the bright side of life, which is really halfthe battle, and neither the damp nor the cold was able to take from himthe good spirits that were his greatest treasure. Coming from the barelife of a camp and the somber scenes of battlefields, he seemed to haveplunged into a very whirlwind of gaiety, and his eyes sparkled withappreciation. He did not notice then that his captain's uniform wasstained and threadbare enough to make him a most disreputable figure ina drawing-room, however gallant he might appear at the head of a forlornhope.

  The street was crowded, the pressure of the armies having driven much ofthe life of the country into the city, and Prescott saw men, wome
n andchildren passing, some in rich and some in poor attire. He saw ladies,both young and old, bearing in their cheeks a faint, delicate bloom, themark of the South, and he heard them as they spoke to each other intheir soft, drawling voices, which reminded him of the waters of alittle brook falling over a precipice six inches high.

  It is said that soldiers, after spending a year or two in the seriousbusiness of slaying each other, look upon a woman as one would regard adivinity--a being to be approached with awe and respect; and suchemotions sprang into the heart of Prescott when he glanced into femininefaces, especially youthful ones. Becoming suddenly conscious of hisrusty apparel and appearance, he looked about him in alarm. Othersoldiers were passing, some fresh and trim, some rusty as himself, but agreat percentage of both had bandaged limbs or bodies, and he found noconsolation in such company, wishing to appear well, irrespective ofothers.

  He noticed many red flags along the street and heard men calling uponthe people in loud, strident voices to come and buy. At other places thegrateful glow of coal fires shone from half-opened doorways, and thefaint but positive click of ivory chips told that games of chance werein progress.

  "Half the population is either buying something or losing something," hesaid to himself.

  A shout of laughter came from one of the open doorways beyond which menwere staking their money, and a voice, somewhat the worse for a liquidnot water, sang:

  "Little McClellan sat eating a melon The Chickahominy by; He stuck in his spade, Then a long while delayed, And cried: 'What a brave general am I!'"

  "I'll wager that you had nothing to do with driving back McClellan,"thought Prescott, and then his mind turned to that worn army by theRapidan, fighting with such endurance, while others lived in fat easehere in Richmond.

  Half a dozen men, English in face and manner and rolling in their walklike sailors, passed him. He recognized them at once as blockade runnerswho had probably come up from Wilmington to sell their goods for abetter price at the capital. While wondering what they had brought, hisattention was distracted by one of the auctioneers, a large man with ared face and tireless voice.

  "Come buy! Come buy!" he cried. "See this beautiful new uniform of thefinest gray, a sample of a cargo made in England and brought over fivedays ago on a blockade runner to Wilmington."

  Looking around in search of a possible purchaser, his eye caughtPrescott.

  "This will just suit you," he said. "A change of a strap or two and itwill do for either captain or lieutenant. What a figure you will be inthis uniform!" Then he leaned over and said persuasively: "Better buyit, my boy. Take the advice of a man of experience. Clothes are half thebattle. They may not be so on the firing line, but they are here inRichmond."

  Prescott looked longingly at the uniform which in colour and texture wasall that the auctioneer claimed, and fingered a small package of gold inhis pocket. At that moment some one bid fifty dollars, and Prescottsurveyed him with interest.

  The speaker was a man of his own age, but shorter and darker, with ahawk-like face softened by black eyes with a faintly humourous twinklelurking in the corner of each. He seemed distinctly good-natured, butcompetition stirred Prescott and he offered sixty dollars. The other manhesitated, and the auctioneer, who seemed to know him, asked him to bidup.

  "This uniform is worth a hundred dollars if it's worth a cent, Mr.Talbot," he said.

  "I'll give you seventy-five dollars cash or five hundred on a credit,"said Talbot; "now which will you take?"

  "If I had to take either I'd take the seventy-five dollars cash, and I'dbe mighty quick about making a choice," replied the auctioneer.

  Talbot turned to Prescott and regarded him attentively for a moment ortwo. Then he said:

  "You look like a good fellow, and we're about the same size. Now, Ihaven't a hundred dollars in gold, and I doubt whether you have. Supposewe buy this uniform together, and take turns in wearing it."

  Prescott laughed, but he saw that the proposition was made in entiregood faith, and he liked the face of the man whom the auctioneer hadcalled Talbot.

  "I won't do that," he replied, "because I have more money than youthink. I'll buy this and I'll lend you enough to help you in buyinganother."

  Friendships are quickly formed in war time, and the offer was acceptedat once. The uniforms were purchased and the two young men strolled ontogether, each carrying a precious burden under his arm.

  "My name is Talbot, Thomas Talbot," said the stranger. "I'm a lieutenantand I've had more than two years' service in the West. I was in thatcharge at Chickamauga when General Cheatham, leading us on, shouted:'Boys, give 'em hell'; and General Polk, who had been a bishop andcouldn't swear, looked at us and said: 'Boys, do as General Cheathamsays!' Well, I got a bad wound in the shoulder there, and I've beeninvalided since in Richmond, but I'm soon going to join the Army ofNorthern Virginia."

  Talbot talked on and Prescott found him entertaining, as he was a manwho saw the humourous side of things, and his speech, being spontaneous,was interesting.

  The day grew darker and colder. Heavy clouds shut out the sun and therain began to fall. The people fled from the streets, and the twoofficers shivered in their uniforms. The wind rose and whipped the raininto their faces. Its touch was like ice.

  "Come in here and wait till the storm passes," said Talbot, taking hisnew friend by the arm and pulling him through an open door. Prescott nowheard more distinctly than ever the light click of ivory chips, mingledwith the sound of many voices in a high or low key, and the softmovement of feet on thick carpets. Without taking much thought, hefollowed his new friend down a short and narrow hall, at the end ofwhich they entered a large, luxurious room, well lighted and filled withpeople.

  "Yes, it's a gambling room--The Nonpareil--and there are plenty morelike it in Richmond, I can tell you," said Talbot. "Those who follow warmust have various kinds of excitement. Besides, nothing is so bad thatit does not have its redeeming point, and these places, without pay,have cared for hundreds and hundreds of our wounded."

  Prescott had another errand upon which his conscience bade him hasten,but casting one glance through the window he saw the soaking streets andthe increasing rain, swept in wild gusts by the fierce wind. Then thewarmth and light of the place, the hum of talk and perhaps the spirit ofyouth infolded him and he stayed.

  There were thirty or forty men in the room, some civilians and otherssoldiers, two bearing upon their shoulders the stripes of a general.Four carried their arms in slings and three had crutches beside theirchairs. One of the generals was not over twenty-three years of age, butthis war furnished younger generals than he, men who won their rank bysheer hard service on great battlefields.

  The majority of the men were playing faro, roulette or keno, and theothers sat in softly upholstered chairs and talked. Liquors were servedfrom a bar in the corner, where dozens of brightly polished glasses ofall shapes and sizes glittered on marble and reflected the light of thegas in vivid colours.

  Prescott's mind traveled back to long, lonely watches in the dark forestunder snow and rain, in front of the enemy's outposts, and he admittedthat while the present might be very wicked it was also very pleasant.

  He gave himself up for a little while to the indulgence of his physicalsenses, and then began to examine those in the room, his eyes soonresting upon the one who was most striking in appearance. It was a timeof young men, and this stranger was young like most of the others,perhaps under twenty-five. He was of middle height, very thick andbroad, and his frame gave the impression of great muscular strength andendurance. A powerful neck supported a great head surmounted by a cropof hair like a lion's mane. His complexion was as delicate as a woman's,but his pale blue eyes were bent close to the table as he wagered hismoney with an almost painful intentness, and Prescott saw that thegaming madness was upon him.

  Talbot's eyes followed Prescott's and he smiled.

  "I don't wonder that you are looking at Raymond," he said. "He is sureto attract attention any
where. You are beholding one of the mostremarkable men the South has produced."

  Prescott recognized the name as that of the editor of the _Patriot_, alittle newspaper published on a press traveling in a wagon with theWestern army until a month since, when it had come over to the Army ofNorthern Virginia. The _Patriot_ was "little" only in size. The wit,humour, terseness, spontaneous power of expression, and above all ofphrase-making, which its youthful editor showed in its columns, alreadyhad made Raymond a power in the Confederacy, as they were destined inhis maturity to win him fame in a reunited nation.

  "He's a great gamester and thinks that he's a master of chance," saidTalbot, "but as a matter of fact he always loses. See how fast his pileof money is diminishing. It will soon be gone, but he will find anotherresource. You watch him."

  Prescott did not need the advice, as his attention was alreadyconcentrated on Raymond's broad, massive jaw and the aggressive curve ofhis strong face. His movements were quick and nervous; face and figurealike expressed the most absolute self-confidence. Prescott wondered ifthis self-confidence did not lie at the basis of all success, military,literary, mercantile or other, enabling one's triumphs to cover up hisfailures and make the people remember only the former.

  Raymond continued to lose, and presently, all his money being gone, hebegan to feel in his pockets in an absent-minded way for more, but thehand came forth empty from each pocket. He did not hesitate.

  A man only two or three years older was sitting next to Raymond, and he,too, was intent on the game. Beside him was a very respectable littleheap of gold and notes, and Raymond, reaching over, took half of themoney and without a word, putting it in front of himself, went on withhis wagers. The second man looked up in surprise, but seeing who hadrobbed him, merely made a wry face and continued his game. Several whohad noticed the action laughed.

  "It's Raymond's way," said Talbot. "I knew that he would do it. That'swhy I told you to watch him. The other man is Winthrop. He's an editor,too--one of our Richmond papers. He isn't a genius like Raymond, buthe's a slashing writer--loves to criticize anybody from the Presidentdown, and he often does it. He belongs to the F. F. V.'s himself, but hehas no mercy on them--shows up all their faults. While you can say thatgambling is Raymond's amusement, you may say with equal truth thatdueling is Winthrop's."

  "Dueling!" exclaimed Prescott in surprise. "Why, I never saw a milderface!"

  "Oh, he doesn't fight duels from choice," replied Talbot. "It's becauseof his newspaper. He's always criticizing, and here when a man iscriticized in print he challenges the editor. And the funny thing aboutit is, that although Winthrop can't shoot or fence at all, he's neverbeen hurt. Providence protects him, I suppose."

  "Has he ever hit anybody?" asked Prescott.

  "Only once," replied Talbot, "and that was his eleventh duel since thewar began. He shot his man in the shoulder and then jumped up and downin his pride. 'I hit him! I hit him!' he cried. 'Yes, Winthrop,' saidhis second, 'some one was bound to get in the way if you kept onshooting long enough.'"

  The place, with its rich colours, its lights shining from glasses andmirrors, its mellow odours of liquids and its softened sounds began tohave a soporific effect upon Prescott, used so long to the open air anduntold hardships. His senses were pleasantly lulled, and the voice ofhis friend, whom he seemed now to have known for a long time, came fromfar away. He could have closed his eyes and gone to sleep, but Talbottalked on.

  "Here you see the back door of the Confederacy," he said. "You men atthe front know nothing. You are merely fighting to defend the mainentrance. But while you are getting yourselves shot to pieces withoutknowing any special reason why, all sorts of people slip in at this backdoor. It is true not only of this government, but also of all others."

  A middle-aged, heavy-faced man in a general's uniform entered and beganto talk earnestly to one of the other generals.

  "That is General Markham," said Talbot, "who is specially interestingnot because of himself, but on account of his wife. She is years youngerthan he, and is said to be the most brilliant woman in Richmond. She hasplans for the General, but is too smart to say what they are. I doubtwhether the General himself knows."

  Raymond and Winthrop presently stopped playing and Talbot promptlyintroduced his new friend.

  "We should know each other since we belong to the same army," saidRaymond. "You fight and I write, and I don't know which of us does themore damage; but the truth is, I've but recently joined the Army ofNorthern Virginia. I've been following the army in the West, but thenews didn't suit me there and I've come East."

  "I hope that you have many victories to chronicle," said Prescott.

  "It's been a long time since there's been a big battle," resumed theeditor, "and so I've come up to Richmond to see a little life."

  He glanced about the room.

  "And I see it here," he added. "I confess that the fleshpots of Richmondare pleasant."

  Then he began to talk of the life in the capital, the condition of thearmy and the Confederate States, furnishing a continual surprise toPrescott, who now saw that beneath the man's occasional frivolity andepicurean tastes lay a mind of wonderful penetration, possessing thatprecious quality generally known as insight. He revealed a minuteknowledge of the Confederacy and its chieftains, both civil andmilitary, but he never risked an opinion as to its ultimate chances ofsuccess, although Prescott waited with interest to hear what he mightsay upon this question, one that often troubled himself. But howevernear Raymond might come to the point, he always turned gracefully awayagain.

  They were sitting now in a cheerful corner as they talked, but at thetable nearest them was a man of forty, with immense square shoulders, aheavy red face and an overbearing manner. He was playing faro and losingsteadily, but every time he lost he marked the moment with an angryexclamation. The others, players and spectators alike, seemed to avoidhim, and Winthrop, who noticed Prescott's inquiring glance, said:

  "That's Redfield, a member of our Congress," and he named the Gulf Statefrom which Redfield came. "He belonged to the Legislature of his Statebefore the war, which he advocated with all the might of his lungs--nosmall power, I assure you--and he was leader in the shouting that oneSouthern gentleman could whip five Yankees. I don't know whether hemeans that he's the Southern gentleman, as he's never yet been on thefiring line, but he's distinguishing himself just now by attackingGeneral Lee for not driving all the Yankees back to Washington."

  Redfield at length left the game, uttering with an oath his opinion thatfair play was impossible in the Nonpareil, and turned to the groupseated near him, regarding the Richmond editor with a lowering brow.

  "I say, Winthrop," he cried, "I've got a bone to pick with you. You'vebeen hitting me pretty hard in that rag of yours. Do you know what apublic man down in the Gulf States does with an editor who attacks him!Why, he goes around to his office and cowhides the miserable littlescamp until he can't lie down comfortably for a month."

  A slight pink tint appeared in the cheeks of Winthrop.

  "I am not well informed about the custom in the Gulf States, Mr.Redfield," he said, "but here I am always at home to my enemies, as youought to know."

  "Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Raymond. "You two can't fight. We can't affordto lose Redfield. He's going to lead a brigade against the Yankees, andif he'll only make one of those fiery speeches of his it will scare allthe blue-backs out of Virginia."

  Redfield's red face flushed to a deeper hue, and he regarded the speakerwith aversion, but said nothing in reply, fearing Raymond's sharptongue. Instead, he turned upon Prescott, who looked like a mild youthfit to stand much hectoring.

  "You don't introduce me to your new friend," he said to Talbot.

  "Mr. Redfield, Captain Prescott," said Talbot. "Mr. Redfield is a Memberof Congress and Captain Prescott comes from the Army of NorthernVirginia, though by way of North Carolina, where he has been recently onsome special duty."

  "Ah, from the Army of Northern Virginia," said Redfield in a
heavygrowl. "Then can you tell me, Mr. Prescott, why General Lee does notdrive the Yankees out of Virginia?"

  A dark flush appeared on Prescott's face. Usually mild, he was notalways so, and he worshiped General Lee.

  "I think it is because he does not have the help of men like yourself,"he replied.

  A faint ray of a smile crossed the face of Raymond, but the older manwas not pleased.

  "Do you know, sir, that I belong to the Confederate Congress?" heexclaimed angrily; "and moreover, I am a member of the MilitaryCommittee. I have a right to ask these questions."

  "Then," replied Prescott, "you should know that it is your duty to askthem of General Lee and not of me, a mere subaltern."

  "Now, Mr. Redfield," intervened Raymond, "don't pick a quarrel withCaptain Prescott. If there's to be a duel, Winthrop has first claim onyou, and I insist for the honour of my profession that he have it.Moreover, since he is slender and you are far from it, I demand that hehave two shots to your one, as he will have at least twice as much tokill."

  Redfield growled out other angry words, which stopped under the cover ofhis heavy mustache, and then turned abruptly away, leaving Prescott insome doubt as to his personal courage but none at all as to his illwill.

  "It is the misfortune of the South," said Raymond, "to have such men asthat, who think to settle public questions by personal violence. Theygive us a bad name which is not wholly undeserved. In fact, personalviolence is our great sin."

  "And the man has a lot of power. That's the worst of it," added Talbot."The boys at the front are hauled around so much by the politicians thatthey are losing confidence in everybody here in Richmond. Why, whenPresident Davis himself came down and reviewed us with a great crowd ofstaff officers before Missionary Ridge, the boys all along the line setup the cry: 'Give us somethin' to eat, Mr. Jeff; give us somethin' toeat! We're hungry! We're hungry!' And that may be the reason why we werethrashed so badly by Grant not long after."

  Prescott saw that the rain had almost ceased, and as he suggested thathe must hurry on, the others rose to go with him from the house. He leftthem at the next corner, glad to have made such friends, and quickenedhis footsteps as he continued alone.