we had small faith in my uncle's wireless telegraphy, but in a short time we had confirmation of his news.

then came the details of the first great battle of the war. "glorious news!" everybody said. a glorious triumph for the south,—an utter rout of the enemy; but my heart sank within me at the tale of blood. how about those boys i had seen march away? what would life hold for some of the wives and mothers and sweethearts at home?

what was glory to the gallant colonel bartow, lying in state at the capitol in richmond? could glory dry his widow's tears or console his aged mother? we gathered details of the last moments of the men who fell. it was all so strange! could it be true that these things had actually happened in virginia?

our men, when the bodies were brought home, could tell many stories of officers—but how about the boys in the ranks? bartow had been unhorsed in the fight, and his aide, young lamar, dashed across the field amid a hail of bullets to procure another mount for his colonel. suddenly lamar was seen to fall with his horse. extricating himself, and perceiving 161 that his horse was shot, he started to proceed on foot; the wounded animal tried to rise and follow. our men saw lamar turn in that deadly fire, stoop down, and pat the poor horse on the neck. another volley of bullets ended the noble animal's life, and lamar returned just in time to bear bartow's body from the field.

i grew so restless and unhappy that i turned my face homeward to petersburg. my resolution was taken. i steadily withstood all the entreaties of my friends, and determined to follow my husband's regiment through the war. i did not ask his permission. i would give no trouble. i should be only a help to his sick men and his wounded. i busied myself in preparing a camp equipage—a field-stove with a rotary chimney, ticks for bedding, to be filled with straw or hay or leaves as the case might be, a camp chest of tin utensils, strong blankets, etc. a tent could always be had from major shepard, our quartermaster. news soon came that the third virginia had been ordered to smithfield. mcclellan was looking toward the peninsula, and major-general joseph e. johnston was keeping an eye on mcclellan.

when i set forth on what my father termed my "wild-goose chase," i found the country literally alive with troops. the train on which i travelled was switched off again and again to allow them to pass. my little boys had the time of their lives, cheering the soldiers and picnicking at short intervals all day.

but smithfield would not hear of the camp outfit. 162 the great box was trundled away to the warehouse, and i was hospitably taken into one of the homes of the little town.

after a while things looked as if i would probably stay in smithfield the rest of my natural life. so i rented a small furnished house, bought a cow, opened an account with mr. britt, the grocer, also with a fisherman who went out every night on pagan creek with a light in his boat, drew his blanket around him and dozed, while the fat little mullets jumped in for my breakfast. until the mullet species becomes extinct nobody need starve in smithfield.

the third virginia and its colonel were giving themselves up to murmurs and discontent at being "buried in smithfield" while gallant fighting was going on elsewhere, meanwhile studying hardee and jomini with all their might. not one of the officers or men had ever before seen military service. the daily drill was the only excitement.

here they were, fastened hand and foot, strong, ardent fellows, while so much was going on elsewhere,—stonewall jackson marching on his career of glory, beauregard ordered to active service in the west, fort henry and fort donelson surrendered to the enemy, our army falling back from manassas, the mighty army of the potomac divided and scattered. then came news that general lee, whose first appointment was from virginia, was to have command of all the armies of the confederacy.

major-general pemberton (the gallant hero who held vicksburg against such odds) was then our commanding officer at smithfield. his wife and her sister, 163 miss imogene thompson, were our grand dames,—deserving the admiration we accorded them. the beauty of the town was mary garnett; the spirited belle who wore brass buttons and a military cap, miss riddick. despite all the discouraging news, these young people mightily cheered the spirits of the officers and helped them to bear inglorious inaction with becoming fortitude.

general pemberton varied our own routine somewhat by giving an occasional dinner party. once he invited us to an early morning drive to cooper's point, opposite newport news, where the warships congress and cumberland were anchored, with whose guns (so soon to be silenced by the iron-clad merrimac) we were already familiar. we were a merry party, assembled in open wagons on a frosty morning, and we enjoyed the drive with fleet horses through the keen air. miss imogene thompson's lover was a prisoner of war on board one of the ships. "look out for the ball and chain, imogene!" said the general, as we arrived in sight of the ships. through a glass we could see the brave fellows, so soon to go down with their colors flying before the relentless merrimac, but not with pretty imogene's lover, who lived to make her happy after the cruel war was over.

another event of personal interest was the presentation to the colonel by the ladies of petersburg of a blue silken state flag. the party came down the river in a steamboat, and we stood on the river bank in a stiff breeze while the presentation speech covered the ground of all the possibilities 164 in store for the colonel, ending with, "and, sir, if you should fall," and promises of tears and true faithful hearts to love and honor him forever. in his answer of thanks he expressed all the gratitude and chivalry of his heart, but craved sympathy for his present state of enforced idleness—"for the dearest sacrifice a man can make for his country is his ambition."

soon afterwards he was called to richmond to take his seat in congress—and as there was nothing to keep him with the regiment, he left it with his lieutenant-colonel.

but i did not return with him. i had enlisted for the war! for some reason, which was not explained at the time, he suddenly returned, and my only knowledge of his coming was a peremptory official order to change my base—to leave smithfield next morning at daybreak! the orderly who brought it stood before me as i read, and looked intensely surprised when i said: "tell the colonel it is impossible! i can't get ready by to-morrow morning to leave."

"madam," said the man, gravely, "it is none of my business, but when colonel pryor gives an order, it is best to be a strict constructionist."

mr. britt proved a tower of strength. he closed his store and brought all his force to help me. my cow was presented with my compliments to my neighbor, mrs. smith, under promise of secrecy (for i knew i must not alarm the town by my precipitate departure), my camp equipage brought from the warehouse, my belongings all packed. as the sun 165 rose next morning, i greeted him from my seat on a trunk in an open wagon on my way to zuni, the railway station fifteen miles away. i never saw a lovelier morning. the cattle were all afield for their early breakfast of dewy grass, a thin line of smoke was ascending from the cottages on the wayside. the mother could be seen within, preparing breakfast for the children, who stood in the door to gaze at us as we passed. the father was possibly away in the army, although the times were not yet so stern that every man became a conscript. these humbler folk who lived close to the highway—what sufferings were in store for them from the pillage of the common soldier! what terror and dismay for the dwellers in the broad-porticoed, many-chambered mansions beyond the long avenues of approach in the distance! i could but think of these things when i heard the boom of guns on the warships at newport news, sounds to which my ears had grown accustomed, but which now took on, somehow, a new meaning.

i soon learned that the third virginia regiment moved the day after i received my own marching orders.

mcclellan had landed about one hundred thousand efficient troops on the peninsula for the movement upon richmond. general joseph e. johnston's line of about fifty-three thousand men extended across the narrow neck of land between the york and the james. they gave mcclellan battle may 5 at williamsburg, captured four hundred unwounded prisoners, ten colors, and twelve field-pieces, slept on 166 the field of battle, and marched off the next morning at their leisure and convenience. after this my colonel was brevetted brigadier-general.

the news of his probable promotion reached me at the exchange hotel in richmond, whither i had gone that i might be near headquarters, and thus learn the earliest tidings from the peninsula. there the colonel joined me for one day. we read with keen interest the announcement in the papers that his name had been sent in by the president for promotion. mrs. davis held a reception at the spotswood hotel on the evening following this announcement, and we availed ourselves of the opportunity to make our respects to her.

a crowd gathered before the exchange to congratulate my husband, and learning that he had gone to the spotswood, repaired thither, and with many shouts and cheers called him out for a speech. this was very embarrassing, and he fled to a corner of the drawing-room and hid behind a screen of plants. i was standing near the president, trying to hold his attention by remarks on the weather and kindred subjects of a thrilling nature, when a voice from the street called out: "pryor! general pryor!" i could endure the suspense no longer, and asked tremblingly, "is this true, mr. president?" mr. davis looked at me with a benevolent smile and said, "i have no reason, madam, to doubt it, except that i saw it this morning in the papers," and mrs. davis at once summoned the bashful colonel: "what are you doing lying there perdu behind the geraniums? come out and take your honors." 167 the next day my bristling eagles, which had faithfully held guard on the colonel's uniform, retired before the risen stars of the brigadier-general.

on may 31 "old joe" and "little mac," as they were affectionately called by their respective commands, again confronted each other, and fought the great two days' battle of fair oaks, or seven pines.

this battle was said to have been one of the closest, most hotly contested, and bloody of the war. a few miles from petersburg the cannonading could be distinctly heard, and ten or twelve of the federal observation balloons could be seen in the air.

mcclellan had an army of one hundred thousand; johnston had sixty-three thousand. the afternoon and night before a terrible storm had raged, "sheets of fire, lightning, sharp and dreadful thunderclaps, were fit precursors of the strife waged by the artillery of man.

"all night long zeus, the lord of counsel, devised them ill with terrible thunderings. then pale fear gat hold upon them."[13]

the roads were deep with mud. with many disadvantages johnston attacked, with vigor, the corps of keyes and heintzelman, drove them back, and came near inflicting upon them a crushing defeat. near the end of the fight general johnston was wounded and borne from the field, smiling and saying, "i'm not sure i am much hurt, but i fear that bit of shell may have injured my spine." 168

he had already been wounded by a musket-ball, his enthusiasm having carried him nearer to the fight than a commanding officer has any right to be.

a little later he had observed one of his colonels trying to dodge the shell.

"colonel," he said, "there is no use dodging! when you hear them, they have passed."

just then he fell unconscious into the arms of one of his couriers. a shell had exploded, striking him on the breast. the moment he regained consciousness his unwounded hand sought his sword and pistols. they were gone!

"i would not lose my sword for ten thousand dollars," he exclaimed. "my father wore it in the war of the revolution." the courier—drury l. armstead—dashed back through the storm of artillery, found both sword and pistols, brought them safely, and received one of the pistols as a token of the gratitude of his chief.[14]

in general george e. pickett's report of this hard-won battle he says, "pryor and wilcox were on my right; our men moved beautifully and carried everything before them."

general johnston was succeeded by general lee. i did not know for a long time (for, so absorbing were the events that rapidly followed, the honors of battle were forgotten) that, after the capture at fair oaks of the federal brigade under general casey, "general roger a. pryor went around among the wounded, giving them whiskey and water, and told them it was a repayment of the kindness 169 with which the wounded confederate prisoners were treated at 'williamsburg,'"[15]—an incident which i hope i may be pardoned for relating, since the generous tribute affords an example of the spirit of that true christian gentleman, general mcclellan.

"he never struck a foul blow and never tolerated mean men or mean methods about him. his was a high ideal of war, a high sense of chivalry which is the duty of fighting the belligerent and sparing the weak. his conduct was keyed to the highest point of honor and generosity in war." when his march led him to the "white house," whence general washington took his bride, martha custis, he ordered a guard to be placed around it; and finding himself alone in st. peter's church, where washington was married, he records in his diary, "i could not help kneeling at the chancel and praying that i might save my country as truly as he did." this was just before the battle at seven pines, in which there were probably arrayed against him the near kindred of martha washington. what would they have thought of the invading general's prayer to "save the country"? and his country! and at the altar he held in especial homage because of their grandsire!

like mcclellan, johnston had not the good fortune to be in accord with his executive. "not only," said an old virginian to him as he lay suffering from his severe wounds, "not only do we deplore this cruel affliction upon you, general, but we feel it to be a national calamity." 170

"no, sir," said johnston, fiercely, rising suddenly upon his unbroken elbow. "the shot that struck me down was the best ever fired for the southern confederacy, for i possessed in no degree the confidence of this government, and now a man who does enjoy it will succeed me, and be able to accomplish what i never could."

the man who succeeded him, general lee, wrote to the secretary of war: "if general johnston was not a soldier, america never produced one. if he was not competent to command the army, the confederacy had no one who was competent." but even lee could not control the opinions of the executive. general johnston was relieved from his command in 1864. general mcclellan's treatment, as the world knows, was hardly less severe and quite as undeserved.

richmond heard the guns of this bloody battle. as soon as the storm allowed them, crowds of anxious listeners repaired to the hills, from which the cannonading and rattle of musketry could be distinctly heard. the city waked up to a keen realization of the horrors of war. all the next day ambulances brought in the wounded—and open wagons were laden with the dead. six thousand one hundred and thirty-four confederate soldiers had been killed; the federal loss was five thousand and thirty-one,—eleven thousand one hundred and sixty-five brave men gone from the country that gave them birth!

the streets of richmond presented a strange scene—ambulances of wounded and dying men 171 passed companies arriving on their way to the front, and each cheered the other. batteries of artillery thundered through the streets; messengers and couriers ran hither and thither.

the streets were filled with a motley crowd, citizens hurrying to and fro, negroes running on messages, newsboys crying "extras" printed on short slips of the yellow confederate paper; on one side of the street regiments arriving from the far south, cheering as they passed; on the other a train of ambulances bearing the wounded, the dead, the dying. now and then a feeble cheer answered the strong men going in to win the victory these had failed to win, but for which they never ceased to look until death closed the watching eyes.

every house was opened for the wounded. they lay on verandas, in halls, in drawing-rooms of stately mansions. young girls and matrons stood in their doorways with food and fruit for the marching soldiers, and then turned to minister to the wounded men within their doors.

it has been estimated that five thousand wounded men were received in private houses and hospitals from the field of seven pines. the city was thrilled to its centre. the city had "no language but a cry"! and yet there was no panic, no frantic excitement. only that richmond, the mirth-loving, pleasure-seeking, was changed into a city of resolute men and women, nerved to make any sacrifice for their cause.

at all times during the war the capitol square was a rallying place where men met and received 172 news and compared chances of success. they would sit all day on the hills outside the city and congregate in the square in the evening to discuss the events of the day and the probable chances for the morrow.

my news of this battle was coupled with the information that my general had fallen ill from malarial fever, and had kept up until the army approached richmond, but that he was now lying sick in his tent a few miles from the city.

there i found him. it seemed strange to see the daisies growing all over the ground on which his little tent was pitched. i obtained leave to move him at once, and took him to the spotswood hotel in richmond. "he wants nothing now," said kind dr. dean, "except some buttermilk and good nursing."

the hotel was crowded. president and mrs. davis were there, mrs. joseph e. johnston, mrs. myers, wife of the quartermaster-general, and many, many more whose names are familiar in all the war histories. everybody was on the alert and on the qui vive.

from my windows i witnessed the constant arrival of officers from every division of the army. the louisiana zouaves were an interesting company of men. their handsome young french colonel coppens was a fine example of grace and manly beauty. he would dash up to the door on his handsome horse, dismount, run up the stairs for a word with some official, run down again, vault lightly into his saddle, and gallop down the street. no one was more admired than colonel coppens. 173

i had not visited the drawing-room often before i became aware that a bitter feud existed between the three eminent ladies i have mentioned—indeed, the richmond examiner gave a most amusing account of one of their spicy interviews. jealousy and consequent heartburning had possessed the bosoms of these ladies—do they not intrude into every court and camp? and here were court and camp merged into one. had i remained idle i should probably have ranged myself on the side of my ci-devant commanding officer, mrs. johnston; but matters of tremendous importance soon filled every mind and heart.

this was the last reunion of old washington friends we were to enjoy. with some of the members of the thirty-sixth congress we parted at the spotswood hotel to meet no more on earth. others met on the battle-field under circumstances of which they little dreamed when the "state of the country" was under discussion.

one of the warmest secessionists was l. q. c. lamar. his devoted friend, general pryor, had parted with him immediately upon the secession of south carolina. their next meeting was at the battle of williamsburg. this battle was fought in the woods, and the danger was enhanced by the falling boughs of the trees. behind the shelter of a stout oak my husband found his old friend colonel lamar. "oh, pryor," he exclaimed, as the shot and shell crashed through the branches, "what do you think now of the right of peaceable secession?"