"Those men are not whipped," said a keen observer to me, as he looked at the closed-up column moving. And he was right. The morale of this remnant of the great army of Northern Virginia was untouched. Those who saw them then will testify to the truth of my statement.

At Amelia Court-House a terrible blow, however, awaited them. General Lee had ordered rations to be sent thither from North Carolina. They had been sent, but the trains had gone on and disgorged them in Richmond. When Lee arrived with his starved army, already staggering and faint, not a pound of bread or meat was found; there was nothing.

Those who saw General Lee at this moment, will remember his expression.

For the first time the shadow of despair pa.s.sed over that brave forehead. Some one had, indeed, struck a death-blow at him. His army was without food. All his plans were reversed. He had intended to reprovision his force at Amelia, and then push straight on. His plan, I think I can state, was to attack the detached forces of Grant in his front; cut his way through there; cross the Nottoway and other streams by means of pontoons, which had been provided; and, forming a junction with General Johnston, crush Sherman or retreat into the Gulf States.

All this was, however, reversed by one wretched, microscopic incident.

The great machine was to be arrested by an atom in its path. The rations were not found at Amelia Court-House; the army must have food, or die; half the force was dispersed in foraging parties throughout the surrounding country, and the delay gave Grant time to ma.s.s heavily in Lee's front, at Burksville.

Then all was decided. Lee had not doubted his ability to crush a corps, or even more, before the main force of the enemy came up. He saw as clearly now, that there was no hope of his cutting his way through Grant's army. It was there in his front--the failure of rations had caused all. With what must have been a terrible weight upon his heart, Lee directed his march toward Lynchburg, determined to fight to the end; and, as he had said during the winter, "die sword in hand."

Then commenced the woeful tragedy. What words can paint that retreat?

There is only one other that equals it--Napoleon's retreat from Moscow.

The army staggered on, fighting, and starving, and dying. Stalwart men fell by the roadside, or dropped their muskets as they tottered on. The wagons were drawn by skeleton mules, without food like the soldiers. If an ear of corn was found, the men seized and munched it fiercely, like animals. Covered with mud, blackened with powder, with gaunt frames, and glaring eyes, the old guard of the army of Northern Virginia still stood to their colors--fighting at every step, despairing, but not shrinking; and obeying the orders of Lee to the last.

You would not doubt that confidence in, and love for, their commander, reader, if you had witnessed the scene which I did, near Highbridge.

The enemy had suddenly a.s.sailed Ewell and Custis Lee, and broken them to pieces. The blue hors.e.m.e.n and infantry pressing fiercely on all sides, and hunting their opponents to the death, seemed, at this moment, to have delivered a blow from which the Confederates could not rise. The attack had fallen like a thunderbolt. Ewell, Anderson, and Custis Lee were swept away by mere weight of numbers; the whole army seemed threatened with instant destruction.

Lee suddenly appeared, however, and the scene which followed was indescribable. He had rushed a brigade across, riding in front on his iron-gray; and at that instant he resembled some n.o.bleman of the old age on the track of the wild-boar. With head erect, face unmoved, eyes clear and penetrating, he had reached the scene of danger; and as the disordered remnants of Ewell's force crowded the hill, hot and panting, they had suddenly seen, rising between them and the enemy, a wall of bayonets, flanked by cannon.

A great painter should have been present then. Night had fallen, and the horizon was lit up by the glare of burning wagons. Every instant rose, sudden and menacing, the enemy's signal rockets. On the summit of the hill, where the infantry waited, Lee rode among the disordered men of Ewell, and his presence raised a storm.

"It's General Lee!"

"Uncle Robert!"

"Where's the man who won't follow old Uncle Robert!"

Such were the shouts, cries, and fierce exclamations. The haggard faces flushed; the gaunt hands were clenched. On all sides explosions of rage and defiance were heard. The men called on the gray old cavalier, sitting his horse as calm as a statue, to take command of them, and lead them against the enemy.

No attack was made on them. An hour afterward the army moved again--the rear covered by General Fitzhugh Lee with his cavalry, which, at every step, met the blue huntsmen pressing on to hunt down their prey.

Such were some of the scenes of the retreat, up to the 7th. Who has the heart to narrate what followed in the next two days? A great army dying slowly--starving, fighting, falling--is a frightful spectacle. I think the memory of it must affect even the enemies who witnessed it.

It is only a small portion of the tragic picture that the present writer has the heart to paint.

XXV.

HUNTED DOWN.

On the morning of the 7th of April, and throughout the 8th, the horrors of the retreat culminated.

The army was fighting at every step. Hope had deserted them, but they were still fighting.

On every side pressed the enemy like bands of wolves hunting down the wounded steed.

Gordon and Longstreet, commanding the two skeleton corps of infantry, and Fitzhugh Lee the two or three thousand cavalry remaining, met the incessant attacks, with a nerve which had in it something of the heroic.

Fitz Lee had commanded the rear guard on the whole retreat. All along the route he had confronted the columns of Sheridan, and checked them with heavy loss.

At Paynesville he had driven Sheridan back, killing, wounding, and capturing two hundred of his men. At Highbridge he captured seven hundred and eighty more, killing many, among the rest the Federal General Read. On the morning of the 7th, beyond the river, he drove back a large column, capturing General Irwin Gregg.

That was a brave resistance made by the old army of Northern Virginia, reader, as it was slowly advancing into the gulf of perdition.

Beyond Farmville there was no longer any hope. All was plainly over. I shrink from the picture, but here is that of one of my friends. "It became necessary to burn hundreds of wagons. At intervals the enemy's cavalry dashed in and struck the interminable train, here or there, capturing and burning dozens on dozens of wagons. Hundreds of men dropped from exhaustion, and thousands let fall their muskets from inability to carry them any farther. The scenes were of a nature which can be apprehended in its vivid reality only by men who are thoroughly familiar with the harrowing details of war. Behind, and on either flank, a ubiquitous and increasingly adventurous enemy; every mud-hole and every rise in the road choked with blazing wagons; the air filled with the deafening reports of ammunition exploding, and sh.e.l.l bursting when touched by the flames; dense columns of smoke ascending to heaven from the burning and exploding vehicles; exhausted men, worn-out mules and horses, lying down side by side; gaunt famine glaring hopelessly from sunken lack-l.u.s.tre eyes; dead mules, dead horses, dead men, everywhere; death many times welcomed as G.o.d's blessing in disguise--who can wonder if many hearts tried in the fiery furnace of four unparalleled years, and never hitherto found wanting, should have quailed in presence of starvation, fatigue, sleeplessness, misery, un-intermitted for five or six days, and culminating in hopelessness?"[1]

[Footnote 1: The Hon. Charles Francis Lawley, in the London _Times_.]

They did not "quail," they fell. It was not fear that made them drop the musket, their only hope of safety; it was weakness. It was an army of phantoms that staggered on toward Lynchburg--and what had made them phantoms was hunger.

Let others describe those last two days in full. For myself I can not.

To sum up all in one sentence. The Army of Northern Virginia, which had for four years s.n.a.t.c.hed victory upon some of the bloodiest battle-fields of history, fought, reeled, fired its last rounds, and fell dead from starvation, defying fiercely with its last breath, gurgling through blood in its throat, the enemy who was hunting it down to its death.

Call it what you will, reader--there was something in those men that made them fight to the last.

XXVI.

THE LAST COUNCIL OF WAR OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA.

On the night of the 8th of April, within a few miles of Appomattox Court-House, took place the last council of war of the army of Northern Virginia.

It was in the open air, beside a camp-fire, near which were spread General Lee's blankets; for throughout the retreat he had used no tent, sleeping, shelterless like his men, by the bivouac fire.

To this last council of war, none but the corps commanders were invited. Thus the only persons present were Gordon and Longstreet, commanding the skeleton corps of infantry, and Fitzhugh Lee, the cavalry of the army.

Gordon was stretched near Fitzhugh Lee, upon the blankets of the commander-in-chief; Gordon, with his clear complexion, his penetrating eyes, his firm lip, his dark hair, and uniform coat b.u.t.toned to his chin--the man to fight and die rather than surrender. Near him lay Fitz Lee, the ardent and laughing cavalier, with the flowing beard, the sparkling eyes, the top-boots, and cavalry sabre--the man to stand by Gordon. On a log, a few feet distant, sat the burly Longstreet, smoking with perfect nonchalance--his heavily bearded face exhibiting no emotion whatever. Erect, within a few paces of these three men, stood General Lee--grave, commanding, unmoved; the fire-light revealing every outline of his vigorous person, clad in its plain gray uniform, the gray beard and mustache, the serene eyes, and that stately poise of the head upon the shoulders, which seemed to mark this human being for command.

All these persons were composed. Their faces were haggard from want of rest, but there was nothing in their expressions indicating anxiety, though some gloom.

"It was a picture for an artist," said that one of them who described the scene to me afterward. The ruddy light brought out every detail of these martial figures. By that fire on the roadside had a.s.sembled for the last time General Robert E. Lee and his corps commanders.

The council was brief.

General Lee succinctly laid before his listeners the whole situation.

His army was on a strip of land between the James River and the enemy.

He could not cross the river--if he could not break through the enemy in his front the army was lost. General Grant had understood his situation, and a correspondence had taken place. He would read General Grant's notes and copies of his own replies.

By the light of the fire, General Lee then proceeded to read the papers alluded too.