The End of an Era: I. The Last of Lee's Army

AT the time of the evacuation of Richmond, in 1865, I had been in the Confederate army for about ten months, had reached the mature age of eighteen, and had attained the rank of lieutenant. I was for the time at Clover Station, on the Richmond and Danville railroad, south of the fallen capital. A light glimmered in headquarters and at the telegraph station. Suspecting that news of importance had been received, and knowing the telegraph operator well, I repaired to his office. He was sitting at his instrument, closely attentive to its busy clicking.

“ Any news, Tom ? ” inquired I.

Holding up his hand he said, “ Yes ! Hush ! ” and continued to listen. Then, seizing his pad and pencil, he wrote rapidly. Again the clicking of the instrument began, and he resumed his attitude of intent listening. He was catching messages passing over the lines to Danville. During a lull, he informed me that heavy fighting on the right of the army at Five Forks had been going on all day, in which the slaughter on both sides had been very great, and that there were reports of the evacuation of Petersburg. Repairing to the quarters of General Walker, I found that he had substantially the same advices. Vainly and despondently we waited until late at night for more particulars.

Sunday morning broke clear and calm. It was one of the first of those heavenly spring days which to me seem brighter in Virginia than elsewhere. Sitting in a sunny spot near the telegraph station, a party of staff officers waited for telegrams until nearly eleven o’clock. Then a storm of news broke upon us, every word of which was freighted with deep import to our cause.

Click — click — click. “ Our lines in front of Petersburg were broken this morning. General Lee is retiring from the city.”

Click — click — click. “ General A. P. Hill was killed.”

Click — click — click. “ Colonel William Pegram of the artillery also killed.”

Click — click — click. “ In the battle of Five Forks, which continued until long after dark last night, Pickett was overwhelmed by Sheridan with a greatly superior force of cavalry and infantry, and the enemy is now endeavoring to turn our right, which is retiring toward the Appomattox, to make a stand there.”

Click — click — click. “ Petersburg is evacuated. Our army in full retreat toward Burkeville.”

Click — click — click. “General Lee has notified the President that he can no longer hold Richmond, and orders have been issued for the immediate evacuation of the city. The town is the scene of the utmost turmoil and confusion.”

General Walker issued the necessary commands to place our own house in order. There was not much to be done. Such government stores and provisions as were at our post were promptly put on freight cars, and every preparation was made for an orderly departure, if necessary. We expected that Lee would make a stand at or near Burkeville, forty miles distant, and that, if he must, he would retreat along the line of the Richmond and Danville railroad. From the accounts of the fighting, I felt sure that my father’s command was in the thick of it; and this fear gave an added trouble to the gloomy reflections of those sad hours.

When we recall the way in which the most startling events in our lives have happened, we note how differently they unfolded themselves from our previous thought of them. Nay, more : we all recall that when great events, which we had anticipated as possible or probable, have actually begun to occur, we have failed to recognize them. So it was now with me. That the war might end disastrously to the Confederacy, I had long regarded as a possibility ; that our army was sadly depleted and in great want, I knew; but that it was literally worn out and killed out and starved out, I did not realize. The idea that within a week it would stack arms at Appomattox, surrender, and be disbanded did not enter into my mind even then. I still thought that it would retreat, and, abandoning Richmond, fall back to some new position, where it would fight many other battles before the issue was decided.

A few hours later, train after train, all loaded to their utmost capacity with whatever could be transported from the doomed capital, came puffing past Clover Station, on the way southward. These trains bore many men who, in the excitement, were unwilling to admit that all was lost. They frankly deplored the necessity of giving up the Confederate capital, but insisted that the array was not beaten or demoralized, and was retreating in good order. They argued that Lee, relieved of the burden of defending his long lines from Richmond to Petersburg, and of the hard task of maintaining his communications, would draw Grant away from his base of supplies, and might now, with that generalship of which we all knew him to be master, be free to administer a stunning if not a crushing blow to Grant, in the open, where strategy might overcome force. These arguments cheered and revived me. I hoped it might so turn out. I dared not ask myself if I believed that it would.

Monday morning, April 3, a train passed Clover bearing the President, his Cabinet and chief advisers, to Danville. They had left Richmond after the midnight of that last Sunday when Mr. Davis was notified, while attending St. Paul’s Church, that the immediate evacuation of the city was unavoidable. Mr. Davis sat at a car window. The crowd at the station cheered. He smiled and acknowledged their compliment; but his expression showed physical and mental exhaustion. Near him sat General Bragg, whose shaggy eyebrows and piercing eyes made him look like a much greater man than he ever proved himself to be. In this car was my brother-in-law, Dr. Garnett, family physician to Mr. Davis. I entered and sat with him a few minutes, to learn what I could about the home folk. His own family had been left at his Richmond residence, to the mercy of the conqueror. The presidential train was followed by many others. One bore the archives and employees of the Treasury Department, another those of the Post Office Department, another those of the War Department. I knew many in all these departments, and they told me the startling incidents of their sudden flight.

I saw a government on wheels. It was the marvelous and incongruous débris of the wreck of the Confederate capital. There were very few women on these trains; but among the last in the long procession were trains bearing indiscriminate cargoes of men and things. In one car was a cage with an African parrot, and a box of tame squirrels, and a hunchback! Everybody, not excepting the parrot, was wrought up to a pitch of intense excitement. The last arrivals brought the sad news that Richmond was in flames. Our departing troops had set fire to the tobacco warehouses. The heat, as it reached the hogsheads, caused the tobacco leaves to expand and burst their fastenings, and the wind, catching up the burning tobacco, spread it in a shower of fire upon the doomed city. It was after dark on Monday when the last train from Richmond passed Clover Station, bound southward. We were now at the northern outpost of the Confederacy. Nothing was between us and the enemy except Lee’s army, which was retreating toward us, — if indeed it were coming in this direction. All day Tuesday, and until midday Wednesday, we waited, expecting to hear of the arrival of our army at Burkeville, or some tidings of its whereabouts. But the railroad stretching northward was as silent as the grave. The cessation of all traffic gave our place a Sabbath stillness. Until now there had been the constant rumble of trains on this main line of supplies to the army. After the intense excitement of Monday, when the whole Confederate government came rushing past at intervals of a few minutes, the unbroken silence reminded one of death after violent convulsions.

We still maintained telegraphic communication with Burkeville, but we could get no definite information concerning the whereabouts of Lee. Telegrams received Tuesday informed us he was near Amelia Court House. Wednesday morning we tried in vain to call up Amelia Court House. A little later Burkeville reported the wires cut at Jetersville, ten miles to the north, between Burkeville and Amelia Court House. When General Walker heard this he quietly remarked, “ They are pressing him off the line of this road, and forcing him to retreat by the Southside road to Lynchburg.” I knew the topography of the country well enough to realize that if the army passed Burkeville Junction, moving westward, our position would be on the left flank and rear of the Union army, and that we must retire or be captured. Many messages came from Mr. Davis at Danville, inquiring for news from General Lee. Shortly after General Walker reported that the wires were cut at Jetersville, another message came from Mr. Davis. He asked if General Walker had a trusted man or officer who, if supplied with an engine, would venture down the road toward Burkeville, endeavor to communicate with General Lee, ascertain from him his situation and future plans, and report to the President. I was present when this telegram arrived. By good luck, other and older officers were absent. The suspense and inactivity of the past three days had been unendurable, and I volunteered gladly for the service. At first General Walker said that I was too young ; but, after considering the matter, he ordered me to hold myself in readiness, and notified Mr. Davis that he had the man he wanted, and requested him to send the engine. The engine. with tender and a baggage car, arrived about eight P. M.

General Walker summoned me to headquarters, and gave me my final instructions. Taking the map, he showed me that in all probability the enemy had forced General Lee westward from Burkeville, and that there was danger of finding the Union troops already there. I was to proceed very slowly and cautiously. If the enemy was not in Burkeville, I must use my judgment whether to switch my train on the Southside road and run westward, or to leave the car and take a horse. If the enemy had reached Burkeville, as he feared, I was to run back to a station called Meherrin, return the engine, secure a horse, and endeavor to reach General Lee. “ The reason that I suspect the presence of the enemy at Burkeville,” said he. “ is that this evening, after a long silence, we have received several telegrams purporting to come from General Lee, urging the forwarding of stores to that point. From the language used, I am satisfied that it is a trick to capture the trains. But I may be mistaken. You must be careful to ascertain the facts before you get too close to the place. Do not allow yourself to be captured.”

The general was not a demonstrative man. He gave me an order which Mr. Davis had signed in blank, in which my name was inserted by General Walker, setting forth that, as special messenger of the President, I was authorized to impress all necessary men, horses, and provisions to carry out my instructions. He accompanied me to the train, and remarked that he had determined to try me, as I seemed so anxious to go ; that it was a delicate and dangerous mission, and that its success depended upon my quickness, ability to judge of situations as they arose, and powers of endurance. He ordered the engineer, a young, strong fellow, to place himself implicitly under my command. I threw a pair of blankets into the car, shook hands cordially with the general, buttoned my papers in my breast pocket, and told the engineer to start. I did not see General Walker again for more than twenty years.

I carried no arms except a navy revolver at my hip, with some loose cartridges in my haversack. The night was chilly, still, and overcast. The moon struggled out now and then from watery clouds. We had no headlight, nor any light in the car. It seemed to me that our train was the noisiest I had ever heard. The track was badly worn and very rough. In many places it had been bolstered up with beams of wood faced with strap iron, and we were compelled to move slowly. The stations were deserted. We had to put on our own wood and water. I lay down to rest, but nervousness banished sleep. The solitude of the car became unbearable. When we stopped at a water tank, I swung down from the car and clambered up to the engine. Knowing that we might have to reverse it suddenly, I ordered the engineer to cut loose the baggage car and leave it behind. This proved to be a wise precaution.

About two o’clock we reached Meherrin Station, twelve miles south of Burkeville. It was dark, and the station was deserted. I succeeded in getting an answer from an old man in a house near by, after hammering a long time upon the door. He had heard us, but he was afraid to reply.

“ Have you heard anything from Lee’s army ? ” I asked.

“ Naw, nothin’ at all. I heerd he was at Amelia Cote House yisterday.”

“ Have you heard of or seen any Yankees hereabouts ? ”

“ None here yit. I heerd there was some at Green Bay yisterday, but they had done gone back.”

“ Back where ? ”

“I dunno. Back to Grant’s army, I reckin.”

“ Where is Grant’s army ? ”

“ Gold knows. It ’pears to me like it ’s everywhar. ”

“Are there any Yankees at Burkeville?”

“I dunno. I see a man come by here late last evenin’, and he said he come from Burkeville ; so I reckin there were n’t none thar when he lef’, but whether they is come sence I can’t say.”

I determined to push on. When we reached Green Bay, eight miles from Burkeville, the place was dark and deserted. There was nobody from whom we could get information. A whip-poorwill in the swamp added to the oppressive silence all about. Movingonward, we discovered, as we cautiously approached a turn in the road near Burkeville, the reflection of lights against the low-hanging clouds. Evidently, somebody was ahead and somebody was building fires. Were these reflections from the camp fires of Lee’s or of Grant’s army, or of any army at all ? On our right, concealing us from the village and the village from us, was a body of pine woods. Not until we turned the angle of these woods could we see anything. I was standing by the engineer. We were both uncertain what to do. At first I thought I would get down and investigate ; but I reflected that I should lose much time in getting back to the engine, whereas if I pushed boldly forward until we were discovered, I should be safe if those who saw us were friends, and able to retreat rapidly if they were enemies.

“Go ahead ! ” I said to the engineer.

“ What, lieutenant ? Ain’t you afraid they are Yankees ? If they are, we ’re goners,” said he hesitatingly.

“ Go ahead ! ” I repeated ; and in two minutes more we were at the curve, with the strong glare of many fires lighting up our engine. What a sight! Lines of men were heaving at the rails by the light of fires built for working. The fires and working parties crossed our route to westward, showing that the latter were devoting their attention to the Southside road. In the excitement of the moment, I thought they were destroying the track. In fact, as I afterward learned, they were merely changing the gauge of the rails. Grant, with that wonderful power he possessed of doing everything at once, was already altering the railroad gauge so as to fetch provisions up to his army. The enemy was not only in Burkeville, but he had been there all day, and was thus following up his occupation of the place. Lee must be to the north or to the west of him, pushed away from Danville road, and either upon or trying to reach the Southside railroad, which led to Lynchburg. All these things I thought out a little later, but not just at that moment. A blazing meteor would not have astonished our foes more than the sight of our locomotive. They had not heard our approach, amid the noise and confusion of their own work. They had no picket out in our direction, for this was their rear. In an instant a number of troopers rushed for their horses and came galloping down upon us. They were but two or three hundred yards away.

“ Reverse the engine,”I said to the engineer. He seemed paralyzed. I drew my pistol.

“It’s no use, lieutenant. They’ll kill us before we get under way,” and he fumbled with his lever.

“ Reverse, or you’re a dead man !”

I shouted, clapping the muzzle of my pistol behind his ear. He heaved at the lever ; the engine began to move, but how slowly ! The troopers were coming on. We heard them cry, “ Surrender ! ” The engine was quickening her beats. They saw that we were running, and they opened fire on us. We lay down flat, and let the locomotive go. The fireman on the tender was in an exposed position, and seemed to be endeavoring to burrow in the coal. A shot broke a window above us. Presently the firing ceased. Two or three of the foremost of the cavalrymen had tumbled into a cattle - guard, in their reckless pursuit. We were safe now, except that the engine and tender were in momentary danger of jumping the rotten track.

When we were well out of harm’s way, the engineer, with whom I had been on very friendly terms till this last episode, turned to me and asked, with a grieved look, “ Lieutenant, would you have blowed my brains out sure ’nuff, if I had n’t done what you tole me ? ”

“ I would that,” I replied, not much disposed to talk ; for I was thinking, and thinking hard, what next to do.

“ Well,” said he, with a sigh, as with a greasy rag he gave a fresh rub to a piece of the machinery, " all I 've got to say is, I don’t want to travel with you no mo’.”

“ You ’ll not have to travel far,” I rejoined. “ I ’ll get off at Meherrin, and you can go back.”

“ What ! ” exclaimed he. You goin’ to get off there in the dark by yourself, with no hoss, and right in the middle of the Yankees ? Dura my skin if I’d do it for Jeff Davis hisself ! ”

Upon our arrival at Meherrin, I wrote a few lines to General Walker, describing the position of the enemy, and telling him that I hoped to reach General Lee near High Bridge by traveling across the base of a triangle formed by the two railroads from Burkeville and my route, and that I would communicate with him further when I could.

It was a lonesome feeling that came over me when the engine went southward, leaving me alone and in the dark at Meherrin. The chill of daybreak was coming on, when I stepped out briskly upon a road leading northward. I knew that every minute counted, and that there was no hope of securing a horse in that vicinity. I think that I walked three or four miles. Day broke and the sun rose before I came to an opening. A kind Providence must have guided my steps, for, at the very first house I reached, a pretty mare stood at the horse-rack, saddled and bridled, as if waiting for me. The house was in a grove by the roadside. I received a hospitable reception, and was invited to breakfast. My night’s work had made me ravenous. My host was past military age, but he seemed dazed by the prospect of falling into the hands of the enemy. I learned from him that Sheridan’s cavalry had advanced nearly to his place, the day before. We ate breakfast almost in silence. At the table I found Sergeant Wilkins, of the Black Walnut troop, from Halifax County. He had been on “horse furlough.” Confederate cavalrymen supplied their own horses, and his horse furlough meant that his horse had broken down, that he had been home to replace it, and that he was now returning to duty with another beast. His mare was beautiful and fresh,—the very animal that I needed. When I told him that I must take his horse he laughed, as if I were joking; then he positively refused ; but finally, when I showed the sign manual of Jefferson Davis, he yielded, very reluctantly. It was perhaps fortunate for Sergeant Wilkins that he was obliged to go home again, for his cavalry command was engaged heavily that day, and every day thereafter until the surrender at Appomattox.

On the morning of April 6, mounted upon as fine a mare as there was in the Confederacy, I sallied forth in search of General Lee. I started northward for the Southside railroad. It was not long before I heard cannon to the northeast. Thinking that the sounds came from the enemy in the rear of Lee, I endeavored to bear sufficiently westward to avoid the Union forces. Seeing no sign of either army, I was going along leisurely, when a noise behind me attracted my attention. Turning in my saddle, I saw at a distance of several hundred yards the head of a cavalry command coming from the east, and turning out of a cross-road that I had passed into the road that I was traveling. They saw me, and pretended to give chase ; but their horses were jaded, and my mare was fresh and swift. The few shots they fired went wide of us, and I galloped out of range quickly and safely. My filly, after her spin, was mettlesome and as I held her in hand I chuckled to think how easy it was to keep out of harm’s way on such a beast.

But this was not to be my easy day.

I was rapidly approaching another road, which came into my road from the east.

I saw another column of Union cavalry filing into my road and going in the same direction that I was going. Here was a pretty pickle ! We were in the woods. Did they see me ? To be sure they did. Of course they knew of the parallel column of their own troops which I had passed, and I think they first mistook me for a friend. But I could not ride forward : I should have come upon the rear of their column. I could not turn back : the cavalry force behind was not a quarter of a mile away. I stopped, thus disclosing who I was. Several of them made a dart for me : several more took shots with their carbines ; and once more the little mare and I were dashing off, this time through the woods to the west.

What a bird she was, that little mare ! At a low fence in the woods she did not make a pause or blunder, but cleared it without turning a hair. I resolved now to get out of the way, for it was very evident that I was trying to reach General Lee by riding across the advance columns of Sheridan, who was on Lee’s flank. Going at a merry pace, just when my heart was ceasing to jump and I was congratulating myself upon a lucky escape, I was “ struck flat aback,” as sailors say. From behind a large oak a keen, racy-looking fellow stepped forth, and, leveling his cavalry carbine, called, “ Halt! ” He was not ten feet away.

Halt I did. It is all over now, thought I, for I did not doubt that he was a Jesse scout. (That was the name applied by us to Union scouts who disguised themselves in our uniform.) He looked too neat and clean for one of our men. The words “I surrender” were on my lips, when he asked, “ Who are you ? ” I had half a mind to lie about it, but I gave my true name and rank. “ What the devil are you doing here, then ? ” he exclaimed, his whole manner changing. I told him. “If that is so, " said he, lowering his gun, to my great relief, “ I must help to get you out. The Yankees are all around us. Come on.” He led the way rapidly to where his own horse was tied behind some cedar bushes, and, mounting, bade me follow him. He knew the woods well. As we rode along, I ventured to inquire who he was. “ Curtis,” said he, — “ one of General Rooney Lee’s scouts. I have been hanging on the flank of this cavalry for several days. They are evidently pushing for the High Bridge, to cut the army off from crossing there.”

After telling him of my adventure, I added : “ You gave me a great fright. I thought you were a Yankee, sure, and came near telling you that I was one.”

“ It is well you did not. I am taking no prisoners on this trip,” he rejoined, tapping the butt of his carbine significantly.

“ There they go,” said he, as we came to an opening and saw the Union cavalry winding down a red clay road to the north of us, traveling parallel with our own route. “ We must hurry, or they ’ll reach the Flat Creek ford ahead of us. Fitz Lee is somewhere near here, and there ’ll be fun when he sees them. There are not many of them, and they are pressing too far ahead of their main column.”

After a sharp ride through the forest, we came to a wooded hill overlooking the ford of Flat Creek, a stream which runs northward, entering the Appomattox near High Bridge.

“ Wait here a moment,” said Curtis. “ Let me ride out and see if we are safe.” Going on to a point where he could reconnoitre, he turned back, rose in his stirrups, waved his hand, and crying, “Come on, quick !” galloped down the hill to the ford.

I followed ; but he had not accurately calculated the distance. The head of the column of Union cavalry was in sight when he beckoned to me and made his dash. They saw him and started toward him. As I was considerably behind him. they were much nearer to me than to him. He crossed safely ; but the stream was deep, and by the time I was in the middle, my little mare doing her best with the water up to her chest, the Yankees were in easy range, making it uncomfortable for me. The bullets were splashing in the water all around me. I threw myself off the saddle, and, nestling close under the mare’s shoulder, I reached the other side unharmed. Curtis and a number of pickets stationed at the ford stood by me manfully. The road beyond the ford ran into a deep gully and made a turn. Behind the protection of this turn Curtis and the pickets opened fire upon the advancing cavalry, and held them in check until I was safely over. When my horse trotted up with me, wet as a drowned rat, it was time for us all to move on rapidly. In the afternoon I heard Fitz Lee pouring hot shot into that venturesome body of cavalry, and I was delighted to learn afterward that he had given them severe punishment.

Curtis advised me to go to Farmville, where I would be beyond the chance of encountering more Union cavalry, and then to work eastward toward General Lee. I had been upset by the morning’s adventures, and I was somewhat demoralized. About a mile from Farmville, I found myself to the west of a line of battle of infantry, formed on a line running north and south, moving toward the town. Not doubting they were Union troops, I galloped off again, and when I entered Farmville I did not hesitate to inform the commandant that the Yankees were approaching. The news created quite a panic. Artillery was put in position and preparations were made to resist, when it was discovered that the troops I had seen were a reserve regiment of our own, falling back in line of battle to a position near the town. I kept very quiet when I heard men all about me swearing that any cowardly, panic-stricken fool who would set such a report afloat ought to be lynched.

I had now very nearly joined our army, which was coming directly toward me. Early in the afternoon the advance of our troops appeared. How they straggled, and how demoralized they seemed ! Eastward, not far from the Flat Creek ford, a heavy fire opened, and continued for an hour or more. As I afterward learned, Fitz Lee had collided with my cavalry friends of the morning, and seeing his advantage had availed himself of it by attacking them fiercely. To the north, about four o’clock, a tremendous fire of artillery and musketry began, and continued until dark. I was riding toward this firing, with my back to Farmville. Very heavy detonations of artillery were followed time and again by crashes of musketry. It was the battle of Sailors’ Creek, the most important of those last struggles of which Grant said, “There was as much gallantry displayed by some of the Confederates in these little engagements as was displayed at any time during the war, notwithstanding the sad defeats of the past weeks.” My father’s command was doing the best fighting of that day. When Ewell and Custis Lee had been captured, when Pickett’s division broke and fled, when Bushrod Johnson, his division commander, left the field ingloriously, my fearless father, bareheaded and desperate, led his brigade into action at Sailors’ Creek, and, though completely surrounded, cut his way out, and reached Farmville at daylight with the fragments of his command.

It was long after nightfall when the firing ceased. We had not then learned the particulars, but it was easy to see that the contest had gone against us. The enemy had, in fact, at Sailors’ Creek, stampeded the remnant of Pickett’s division, broken our lines, captured six general officers, including Generals Ewell and Custis Lee, and burned a large part of our wagon trains. As evening came on, the road was filled with wagons, ar tillery, and bodies of men, hurrying without organization and in a state of panic toward Farmville. I met two general officers, of high rank and great distinction, who seemed utterly demoralized, and they declared that all was lost. That portion of the army which was still unconquered was falling back with its face to the foe, and bivouacked with its right and left flanks resting upon the Appomattox to cover the crossings to the north side, near Farmville. Upon reaching our lines, I found the divisions of Field and Mahone presenting an unbroken and defiant front. Passing from camp to camp in search of General Lee, I encountered General Mahone, who told me where to find General Lee. He said that the enemy had “ knocked hell out of Pickett.” “ But,” he added savagely, “ my fellows are all right. We are just waiting for ’em.” And so they were. When the army surrendered, three days later, Mahone’s division was in better fighting trim and surrendered more muskets than any other division of Lee’s army.

It was past midnight when I found General Lee. He was in an open field north of Rice’s Station and east of the High Bridge. A camp fire of fence rails was burning low. Colonel Charles Marshall sat in an ambulance, with a lantern and a lap-desk. He was preparing orders at the dictation of General Lee, who stood near, with one hand resting on a wheel and one foot upon the end of a log, watching intently the dying embers as he spoke in a low tone to his amanuensis.

Touching my cap as I rode up, I inquired, “ General Lee ? ”

“ Yes,” he replied quietly, and I dismounted and explained my mission. He examined my autograph order from Mr. Davis, and questioned me closely concerning the route by which I had come. He seemed especially interested in my report of the position of the enemy at Burkeville and westward, to the south of his army. Then, with a long sigh, he said : “ I hardly think it is necessary to prepare written dispatches in reply. They may be captured. The enemy’s cavalry is already flanking us to the south and west. You seem capable of bearing a verbal response. You may say to Mr. Davis that, as he knows, my original purpose was to adhere to the line of the Danville road. I have been unable to do so, and am now endeavoring to hold the Southside road as I retire in the direction of Lynchburg.”

“ Have you any objective point, general, — any place where you contemplate making a stand ? ” I ventured timidly.

“ No,” said he, slowly and sadly, “ no ; I shall have to be governed by each day’s developments.”Then, with a touch of resentment, and raising his voice, he added, “A few more Sailors’ Creeks and it will all be over — ended — just as I have expected it would end from the first.”

I was astonished at the frankness of this avowal to one so insignificant as I. It made a deep and lasting impression on me. It gave me an insight into the character of General Lee which all the books ever written about him could never give. It elevated him in my opinion more than anything else he ever said or did. It revealed him as a man who had sacrificed everything to perform a conscientious duty against his judgment. He had loved the Union. He had believed secession was unnecessary ; he had looked upon it as hopeless folly. Yet at the call of his state he had laid his life and fame and fortune at her feet, and served her faithfully to the last.

After another pause, during which, although he spoke not a word and gave not a sign, I could discern a great struggle within him, he turned to me and said: “ You must be very tired, my son. You have had an exciting day. Go rest yourself, and report to me at Farmville at sunrise. I may determine to send a written dispatch.” The way in which he called me “ my son ” made me feel as if I would die for him.

Hesitating a moment, I inquired, “ General, can you give me any tidings of my father ? ”

“ Your father ? ” he asked. “ Who is your father ? ”

“ General Wise.”

“ Ah ! ” said he, with another pause. “No, no. At nightfall his command was fighting obstinately at Sailors’ Creek, surrounded by the enemy. I have heard nothing from them since. I fear they were captured, or — or — worse.” To these words, spoken with genuine sympathy, he added : “ Your father’s command has borne itself nobly throughout this retreat. You may well feel proud of him and of it.”

My father was not dead. At the very moment when we were talking, he and the remnant of his brigade were tramping across the High Bridge, feeling like victors, and he, bareheaded and with an old blanket pinned around him, was chewing tobacco and cursing Bushrod Johnson for running off and leaving him to fight his own way out.

I had found a little pile of leaves in a pine thicket, and lay down in the rear of Field’s division for a nap. Fearing that somebody would steal my horse, I looped the reins around my wrist, and the mare stood by my side. We were already good friends. Just before daylight she gave a snort and a jerk which nearly dislocated my arm, and I awoke to find her alarmed at Field’s division, which was withdrawing silently and had come suddenly upon her. Warned by this incident, I mounted, and proceeded toward Farmville, to report, as directed, to General Lee for further orders. North of the stream at Farmville, in the forks of the road, was the house then occupied by General Lee. On the hill behind the house, to the left of the road, was a grove. Seeing troops in this grove, I rode in, inquiring for General Lee’s headquarters. The troops were lying there more like dead men than live ones. They did not move, and they had no sentries out. The sun was shining upon them as they slept. I did not recognize them. Dismounting, and shaking an officer, I awoke him with difficulty. He rolled over, sat up, and began rubbing his eyes, which were bloodshot and showed great fatigue.

“ Hello, John ! ” said he. “ In the name of all that is wonderful, where did you come from ? ” It was Lieutenant Edmund R. Bagwell, of the forty-sixth. The men, a few hundred in all, were the pitiful remnant of my father’s brigade.

“Have you seen the old general?” asked Ned. “He’s over there. Oh, we have had a week of it! Yes, this is all that is left of us. John, the old man will give you thunder when he sees you. When we were coming on last night in the dark, he said, ‘Thank God, John is out of this!’ Dick? Why, Dick was captured yesterday at Sailors’ Creek. He was riding the general’s old mare, Maggie, and she squatted like a rabbit with him when the shells began to fly. She always had that trick. He could not make her go forward or backward. You ought to have seen Dick belaboring her with his sword. But the Yanks got him ! ” and Ned burst into a laugh as he led me where my father was. Nearly sixty years old, he lay like a common soldier, sleeping on the ground among his men.

We aroused him, and when he saw me he exclaimed : “ Well, by great Jehosaphat, what are you doing here ? I thought you, at least, were safe.” I hugged him, and almost laughed and cried at the sight of him safe and sound, for General Lee had made me very uneasy. I told him why I was there.

“ Where is General Lee ? ” he asked earnestly, springing to his feet. “ I want to see him again. I saw him this morning about daybreak. I had washed my face in a mud puddle, and the red mud was all over it and in the roots of my hair. I looked like a Comanche Indian ; and when I was telling him how we cut our way out last night, he broke into a smile and said, ‘ General, go wash your face !'" The incident pleased him immensely, for at the same time General Lee made him a division commander, — a promotion he had long deserved for gallantly, if not for military knowledge.

“ No. Dick is not captured. He got out, I’m sure,” said he, as we walked down the hill together. “He was separated from me when the enemy broke our line. He was not riding Maggie. I lent her to Frank Johnson. He was wounded, and, remembering his kindness to your brother Jennings the day he was killed, I tried to save the poor fellow, and told him to ride Maggie to the rear. Dick was riding his black horse. I know it. When the Yankees advanced, a flock of wild turkeys flushed before them and came sailing into our lines. I saw Dick gallop after a gobbler and shoot him and tie him to his saddle-bow. He was coming back toward us when the line broke, and, mounted as he was, he has no doubt escaped, but is cut off from us by the enemy.

“ Yes, the Yanks got the bay horse, and my servants Joshua and Smith, and all my baggage, overcoats and plunder. A private soldier pinned this blanket around me last night, and I found this hat when I was coming off the field.”

He laughed heartily at his own plight. I have never since seen a catch-pin half so large as that with which his blanket was gathered at the throat. As we passed down the road to General Lee’s headquarters, the roads and the fields were filled with stragglers. They moved looking behind them, as if they expected to be attacked and harried by a pursuing foe. Demoralization, panic, abandonment of all hope, appeared on every hand. Wagons were rolling along without any order or system. Caissons and limber chests, without commanding officers, seemed to be floating aimlessly upon a tide of disorganization. Rising to his full height, casting a glance around him like that of an eagle, and sweeping the horizon with his long arm and bony forefinger, my father exclaimed, “ This is the end ! ” It is impossible to convey an idea of the agony and the bitterness of his words and gesture.

We found General Lee on the rear portico of the house that I have mentioned. He had washed his face in a tin basin, and stood drying his beard with a coarse towel as we approached. “ General Lee,” exclaimed my father, “my poor brave men are lying on yonder hill more dead than alive. For more than a week they have been fighting day and night, without food, and, by God, sir, they shall not move another step until somebody gives them something to eat! ”

“ Come in, general,” said General Lee soothingly. " They deserve something to eat, and shall have it; and meanwhile you shall share my breakfast.” He disarmed everything like defiance by his kindness.

It was but a few moments, however, before my father launched forth in a fresh denunciation of the conduct of General Bushrod Johnson in the engagement of the 6th. I am satisfied that General Lee felt as he did ; but, assuming an air of mock severity, he said, “General, are you aware that you are liable to court-martial and execution for insubordination and disrespect toward your commanding officer ? ”

My father looked at him, with lifted eyebrows and flashing eyes, and exclaimed : “ Shot ! You can’t afford to shoot the men who fight for cursing those who run away. Shot! I wish you would shoot me. If you don’t, some Yankee probably will within the next twenty-four hours.”

Growing more serious, General Lee inquired what he thought of the situation.

“ Situation? ” said the bold old man. “ There is no situation ! Nothing remains, General Lee, but to put your poor men on your poor mules and send them home in time for spring ploughing. This army is hopelessly whipped, and is fast becoming demoralized. These men have already endured more than I believed flesh and blood could stand, and I say to you, sir, emphatically, that to prolong the struggle is murder, and the blood of every man who is killed from this time forth is on your head, General Lee.”

This last expression seemed to cause General Lee great pain. With a gesture of remonstrance, and even of impatience, he protested : " Oh, general, do not talk so wildly. My burdens are heavy enough. What would the country think of me if I did what you suggest ? ”

“ Country be d-d ! ” was the quick reply. “ There is no country. There has been no country, general, for a year or more. You are the country to these men. They have fought for you. They have shivered through a long winter for you. Without pay or clothes or care of any sort, their devotion to you and faith in you have been the only things which have held this army together. If you demand the sacrifice, there are still left thousands of us who will die for you. You know the game is desperate beyond redemption, and that, if you so announce, no man or government or people will gainsay your decision. That is why I repeat that the blood of any man killed hereafter is upon your head.”

General Lee stood for some time at an open window, looking out at the throng now surging by upon the roads and in the fields, and made no response. Then, turning his attention to me, he said cheerfully that he was glad that my father’s plight was not as bad as he had thought it might be, at the time of our conversation the night before. After a pause, he wrote upon a piece of paper a few words to the effect that he had talked with me and that I would make a verbal report. If occasion arose, he would give further advices. “ This,” said he, “you will deliver to the President. I fear to write, lest you be captured, for those people are already several miles above Farmville. You must keep on the north side to a ford eight miles above here, and be careful about crossing even there.” He always referred to the enemy as “ those people.”Then he bade me adieu, and asked my father to come in and share his breakfast.

I hugged my father in the presence of General Lee, and I saw a kindly look in his eyes as he watched us. Remembering that my father had no horse, I said,

“ Take my mare. I can easily get another.”

“ What! ” said he, laughing, " a dispatch-bearer giving away his horse ! No, sir. That is too pretty a little animal to make a present to a Yankee. I know they will bag us all, horse, foot, and dragoons, before long. No. I can walk as well as anybody. Have you any chewing tobacco ? ”

I was immensely flattered at this request, and gave him a plug of excellent tobacco. It was the first time that he had recognized me as entitled to the possession of all the " modern improvements ” of a soldier.

And so I left them. As I rode along in search of the ford to which General Lee had directed me, I felt that I was in the midst of the wreck of that immortal army which, until now, I had believed to be invincible.

John S. Wise.