But although she had many such escapes and her wit was so keen that it was a powerful weapon in any emergency, yet as the conflict between the North and the South deepened the need of caution became more necessary than ever, for Confederate spies were everywhere. In her half-destroyed diary which for many months lay buried near the Van Lew house, over and over again the writer emphasizes her fear of discovery. She says:

"If you spoke in your parlor or chamber, you whispered,--you looked under the lounges and beds. Visitors apparently friendly were treacherous.... Unionists lived ever in a reign of terror. I was afraid even to pa.s.s the prison; I have had occasion to stop near it when I dared not look up at the windows. I have turned to speak to a friend and found a detective at my elbow. Strange faces could sometimes be seen peeping around the columns and pillars of the back portico.... Once I went to Jefferson Davis himself to see if we could not obtain some protection.... His private Secretary told me I had better apply to the Mayor.... Captain George Gibbs had succeeded Todd as keeper of the prisoners; so perilous had our situation become that we took him and his family to board with us. They were certainly a great protection.... Such was our life--such was freedom in the Confederacy. I speak what I know." The diary also tells of Mrs. Van Lew's increasing dread of arrest, dear, delicate, loyal lady--for that was constantly spoken of, and reported on the street, while some never hesitated to say she should be hanged.

Another summer came and wore away, and the third year of the war was drawing to a close in the terrible winter of 1863-4. The Union army in the East had twice advanced against the Confederates, to be beaten back at Fredericksburg and at Chancellorsville. In June and July of 1863 Lee began a second invasion of the North, but was defeated at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. In July, 1863, Vicksburg and Port Hudson were captured and the Mississippi River was in Union hands, but in the following autumn the Confederates of the West defeated the Union army at Chickamauga, after which General Grant took command and was victorious near Chattanooga, and so with alternate hope and despair on both sides the hideous war went on.

Through cipher despatches "Crazy Bet" learned of an intended attempt of Federal officers to escape from Libby Prison, and at once a room in the Van Lew mansion was made ready to secrete them if they achieved their purpose. The room was at the end of one of the big parlors, and dark blankets were hung over its windows; beds were made ready for exhausted occupants, and a low light kept burning day and night in readiness for their possible arrival.

Meanwhile the prisoners in the Libby, desperate because of the horrible conditions in the buildings where they were quartered, were busily constructing a tunnel which ran from the back part of the cellar called "Rat-h.e.l.l" to the prison yard. The work was carried on under the direction of Colonel Rose, and his frenzied a.s.sistants worked like demons, determined to cut their way through the walls of that grim prison to the light and life of the outer world. At last the tunnel was ready. With quivering excitement over their great adventure added to their exhaustion, the men who were to make their escape, one after another disappeared in the carefully guarded hole leading from the cellar of the prison into a great sewer, and thence into the prison yard. Of this little company of adventurous men eleven Colonels, seven Majors, thirty-two Captains, and fifty-nine Lieutenants escaped before the daring raid was discovered. The news spread like wild-fire through the ranks of the prisoners who were still in the building and among those on duty. Immediately every effort was made by those in charge to re-capture the refugees and bring them back, and as a result, between fifty and sixty of them were once again imprisoned in the squalid cells of the Libby.

Just at that time John Van Lew, Betty's brother, was conscripted into the Confederate army, and although unfit for military duty because of his delicate health, he was at once sent to Camp Lee. As he was a keen sympathizer with his sister's Union interests, as soon as he was sent to the Confederate camp he deserted and fled to the home of a family who lived on the outskirts of the city, who were both Union sympathizers and friends of his sister's. They hid him carefully, and Betty at once came to aid in planning for his escape from the city.

Unfortunately it was the night of the escape of the Federal prisoners from the Libby, so a doubly strong guard was set over every exit from Richmond, making escape impossible. Here was a difficult situation!

Betty Van Lew knew that some way out of the dilemma must be found; for the house where her brother was secreted would surely be searched for the escaped refugees, and it would go hard with those who were concealing him if they were discovered harboring a deserter.

With quick wit she immediately presented herself at General Winder's office, where she used her diplomatic powers so successfully that the general was entirely convinced of John Van Lew's unfit physical condition for military service, and promised to make every effort toward his exemption. When all efforts proved unavailing, the general took him into his own regiment, and "the Union sympathizer never wore a Confederate uniform, and only once shouldered a Confederate musket, when on a great panic day he stood, a figurehead guard at the door of a government department. At last, in 1864, when even General Winder could not longer protect him from active service at the front, Van Lew deserted again, and served with the Federal Army until after the fall of Richmond."

Meanwhile the old Van Lew house, in its capacity of Secret Service station, was a hive of industry, which was carried on with such smooth and silent secrecy that no one knew what went on in its great rooms.

And watching over all those who came and went on legitimate business, or as agents of the Federal Government on secret missions, was a woman, alert of body, keen of mind, standing at her post by day and by night. After all members of her household were safely locked in their rooms for the night, the Spy would creep down, barefooted, to the big library with its ornamented iron fireplace. On either side of this fireplace were two columns, on each of which was a small, carved figure of a lion. Possibly by accident--probably by design, one of these figures was loosened so that it could be raised like a box-lid, and in the darkness of the night the swift, silent figure of the Spy would steal into the big room, lift the carved lion, deftly slip a message in cipher into the cavity beneath the figure and cautiously creep away, with never a creaking board to reveal her coming or going.

With equal caution and swift dexterity, early the next morning an old negro servant would steal into the room, duster and broom in hand, to do his cleaning. Into every corner of the room he would peer, to be sure there were no watching eyes, then he would slip over to the fireplace, lift the lion, draw out the cipher message, place it sometimes in his mouth, sometimes in his shoe, and as soon as his morning ch.o.r.es were done he would be seen plodding down the dusty road leading to the farm, where some one was eagerly waiting for the tidings he carried. Well had the Spy trained her messengers!

The old mansion had also hidden protection for larger bodies than could be concealed under the rec.u.mbent lion by the fireplace. Up under the sloping roof, between the west wall of the garret and the tiles, was a long, narrow room, which was probably built at the order of Betty Van Lew, that she might have a safe shelter for Union refugees.

All through the war gossip was rife concerning the Van Lews and their movements, and there were many rumors that the old mansion had a secret hiding-place, but this could never be proved. Besides those whom it sheltered from time to time, and the one whose thought had planned it, only one other person knew of the existence of that garret room, and for long years she was too frightened to tell what she had seen in an unexpected moment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MISS VAN LEW BRINGING FOOD TO THE UNION SOLDIER IN THE SECRET ROOM]

Betty Van Lew's niece was visiting in the old house during the blackest period of the struggle between the North and South. She was a little girl, and her b.u.mp of curiosity was well developed. After tossing restlessly in bed on a hot night, she opened her door in order to get some air. To her surprise she saw Aunt Betty tiptoeing through the other end of the dark hall, carrying something in her hand. With equal stealth the curious child followed the creeping figure up through the dark, silent house into the garret--saw a hand reach behind an old chest of drawers standing against the wall in the garret, and with utter amaze saw a black hole in the wall yawn before her eyes. There stood her aunt before the opening of the wall, shading with cautious hand the candle she carried, while facing her stood a gaunt, hollow-eyed, bearded man in uniform reaching out a greedy hand for the food on the plate. The man saw the child's eyes burning through the darkness back of the older woman, but she put a chubby finger on her lip, and ran away before he had a chance to realize that she was flesh and blood and not an apparition. Panting, she ran swiftly down the long staircase and, with her heart beating fast from fright, flung herself on the bed and buried her head in the pillows, lying there for a long time, so it seemed to her. Then, scarcely daring to breathe, for fear of being discovered, she stole out of bed again, opened her door, and once more crept up through the silent mansion, this time alone. In a moment she stood outside the place where the hole in the wall had opened before her amazed vision. Not a sound in the great, dark garret! Putting her mouth close to the part.i.tion she called softly to the soldier, and presently a deep voice told her how to press the spring and open the secret door. Then, a shivering but determined little white-robed figure, she stood before the yawning chasm and talked with the big, Union soldier, who seemed delighted at the sound of his own voice, and years afterward she remembered how he had looked as he said:

"My! what a spanking you would have got if your aunt had turned around!" She did not dare to stand there talking to him long, for she was old enough to realize that there must be a reason for his being in hiding, and that if the secret room should be discovered it might bring unhappiness to her aunt. So in a very few moments the little white-gowned figure flitted silently, swiftly down-stairs again, and no one knew until years later of that midnight excursion of hers--or of the secret room, for which the old house was thoroughly searched more than once.

The winter of 1863-4 was one full of tense situations and of many alarms for both Confederates and Unionists. In February, after the daring escape of the Federal officers from the Libby, there were several alarms, which roused young and old to the defense of the city.

The enemy made a movement to attack the city on the east side, but were driven back. Again on the 29th of the month, the bells all rang to call men to service. The city battalions responded, while General Wilc.o.x ordered all men who were in the city on furlough, and all who could bear arms, out to protect the city, for Kilpatrick was attempting a raid on Richmond, along Brook turnpike. "But while he was dreaming of taking Richmond, Gen. Wade Hampton suddenly appeared with his troops and routed him, taking three hundred and fifty prisoners, killing and wounding many, and capturing a large number of horses."

Then came an event for which the Federal sympathizers, and especially those in the Union Secret Service, had prepared with all the caution and secrecy possible, trying to perfect every detail to such a degree that failure would be impossible. To release all Federal prisoners in Richmond--this was but a part of the audacious scheme in which Betty Van Lew and a Union sympathizer called "Quaker," for purposes of disguise, played an important part.

On the 28th of February, 1864, Col. Ulric Dahlgren left Stevensburg with a company of men, selected from brigades and regiments, as a picked command to attempt a desperate undertaking. At Hanovertown he crossed with his men, all dressed in Confederate uniforms, confidently expecting to get into Richmond by stealth. Unfortunately their movements were discovered, and when they rode along through the woods near the road at Old Church, in their disguise, a party of Confederates in ambush opened fire on them, captured ninety white men and thirty-five negroes, and killed poor little crippled Dahlgren, a small, pale young officer, who "rode with crutches strapped to his saddle, and with an artificial leg in the stirrup, as he had lost a limb a few months before. His death was as patriotic as was his desperate attempt, for bravely his eager band rode into the ambush--there was a volley of shots from the thicket by the roadside, and the young colonel fell from his horse, dead. Some of his men managed to escape, but most of them were captured."

In Dahlgren's pocket was found an order to all of his men and officers. To the officers he said:

"We will have a desperate fight, but stand up to it. When it does come, all will be well. We hope to release the prisoners from Belle Isle first, and having seen them fairly well started, we will cross James River into Richmond, destroying the bridges after us, and exhorting the released prisoners to destroy and burn the hateful city, and do not allow the rebel leader Davis and his traitorous crew to escape."

To his guides and runners he said:

"Be prepared with oak.u.m, turpentine, and torpedoes. Destroy everything that can be used by the rebels. Shoot horses and cattle, destroy the railroads and the ca.n.a.l, burn the city, leave only the hospitals, and kill Jeff Davis and his Cabinet."

A dangerous plan indeed! Small wonder that when its details became known in their diabolical cruelty, the people of Richmond cried out for revenge, and the hanging of the prisoners; but this was not heeded by the officials, who had a saner judgment.

The raid had failed! Ulric Dahlgren had lost his life in a daring attempt to which he was evidently urged by Betty Van Lew and the so-called Quaker. Bit by bit the reasons for its failure filtered through to the Spy, chief of which was the treachery of Dahlgren's guide, by which the forces of the raiders, after separating in two parts for the attack, lost each other and were never able to unite.

The brave, crippled young commander riding fearlessly on to within five miles of the city into the ambush, his command falling under the volley of shots from a hidden enemy--when these details reached Betty Van Lew her anguish was unbearable, for she had counted on success instead of failure. And now, there was work to do! Pacing the floor, she made her plans, and with swift daring carried them out.

Dahlgren was buried on the very spot where he fell; but a few days later the body was taken to Richmond by order of the Confederate government, where it lay for some hours at the York River railroad station. Then, at midnight, it was taken away by the city officials and buried, no one knew where. But Betty Van Lew says in her diary: "The heart of every Unionist was stirred to its depths ... and to discover the hidden grave and remove his honored dust to friendly care was decided upon."

Admiral Dahlgren, father of the unfortunate colonel, sent one hundred dollars in gold to Jefferson Davis, asking that the body of his son be sent to him. The order was at once given to the chief of police, with the added command to have the body placed in a decent coffin; but when the police went to carry out the order, taking with them the soldiers who had buried Dahlgren, the grave was empty!

Through the daring act of Secret Service agents, doubtless, and of Betty Van Lew's a.s.sistants, on a bitter cold and stormy night, two Union sympathizers went out to the grave, the location of which had been cleverly discovered by the Unionists. The body of young Dahlgren was quickly taken up and carried to a work-shop belonging to Mr.

William Rowley, who lived a short distance in the country. He watched over the remains all night, and during the hours of darkness more than one Union sympathizer stole out to the shop to pay their last respects to the pathetic young victim of the attempted raid. At dawn the body was placed in a metallic coffin and put on a wagon, under a load of young peach-trees, which entirely concealed the casket. Then Mr.

Rowley, who was a man of iron nerves and great courage, jumped to the driver's seat and bravely drove the wagon with its precious freight out of Richmond, past the pickets, without the visible trembling of an eye-lash to betray his dangerous mission.

"As he had feared, at the last picket post, he was stopped and challenged. His wagon must be searched. Was his brave hazard lost? As he waited for the search to be made which would sign his death warrant, one of the guards recognized him as an old acquaintance, and began a lively conversation with him. Other wagons came up, were searched, and went on. Presently the Lieutenant came from his tent and called to the guard to 'Search that man and let him go!'

"The guard looked with interest at the well-packed load, and remarked that it would be a shame to tear up those trees.

"Rowley gave no sign of fear or nervousness. Nonchalantly he said that he had not expected them to be disturbed, but that he knew a soldier's duty.

"Another wagon drove up, was searched, and sent on. Again the Lieutenant gave an order to 'search the man so that he can go!' Could anything save him now? Rowley wondered. If he had not been a born actor he would have shown some sign of the terrible strain he was under as he waited for the discovery of his hidden burden.

"A moment of agonizing suspense, then the guard said, in a low voice, 'Go on!' and Rowley, without search, went on with his concealed burden.

"Meanwhile, two accomplices had flanked the picket, and they presently joined Rowley and showed him the way to a farm not far away, where a grave was hastily dug and the coffin lowered into it. Two loyal women helped to fill it in, and planted over it one of the peach-trees which had so successfully prevented discovery. So ended the Dahlgren raid--and so the Spy had been foiled in one of the most daring and colossal plots with which she was connected. Because of the stealing of the young Colonel's body, Admiral Dahlgren's wish could not be complied with until after the war."

The raid had failed, and with the return of spring, the Union Army was closing in around Richmond, which made it an easier matter for Betty Van Lew to communicate with the Union generals, especially with General Grant, through his Chief of Secret Service. As the weary months wore away, more than once the Spy was in an agony of suspense, when it seemed as if some one of her plots was about to bring a revelation of her secret activities; as if disclosure by some traitor was inevitable; but in every case she was saved from danger, and was able to continue her work for the Union.

And now the Confederate forces were ransacking the South in search of horses, of which they were sorely in need. The Spy quickly hid her one remaining animal in the smoke-house, but it was not safe there.

Confederate agents were prowling about the city, searching every building in which a horse could be secreted. In the dead of night Betty Van Lew led her steed, with feet wrapped in cloths to prevent noise, from the smoke-house into the old mansion itself, and stabled it in the study, where she had covered the floor with a thick layer of straw to deaden any sound of stamping hoofs. And the horse in his palatial residence was not discovered.

General Grant was now at the head of all the armies of the United States, and to him was given the duty of attacking Lee. General Sherman was at the head of a large force in the West, and his duty was to crush the force of General Johnston.

On the fourth of May, 1864, each general began his task. Sherman attacked Johnston, and step by step drove him through the mountains to Atlanta, where Johnston was removed, and his army from that time was led by General Hood. After trying in vain to beat Sherman, he turned and started toward Tennessee, hoping to draw Sherman after him. But he did not succeed; Sherman sent Thomas, the "Rock of Chickamauga," to deal with Hood, and in December he destroyed Hood's army in a terrible battle at Nashville. Meanwhile Sherman started to march from Atlanta to the sea, his army advancing in four columns, covering a stretch of country miles wide. They tore up the railroads, destroyed the bridges, and finally occupied Savannah. There Sherman stayed for a month, during which his soldiers became impatient. Whenever he pa.s.sed them they would shout: "Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us in Richmond!" And on the first of February they resumed their march to North Carolina.

Grant, meanwhile, had begun his attack on Lee, on the same day that Sherman had marched against Johnston. Starting from a place called Culpepper Court House, Grant's army entered the Wilderness, a tract of country covered with a dense growth of oak and pine, and after much hard fighting closed in around Richmond, laying siege to Petersburg.

Bravely Lee and his gallant men resisted the Union forces until April, 1865, when, foreseeing the tragic end ahead, Lee left Richmond and marched westward. Grant followed, and on the ninth of April Lee surrendered his army at Appomattox Court House. Johnston surrendered to Sherman near Raleigh, in North Carolina, about two weeks later, and in May Jefferson Davis was taken prisoner.

This ended the war. The Confederacy fell to pieces, and the Union was saved. "In the hearts of all Union sympathizers was a pa.s.sionate exultation that the United States was once again under one government; but what a day of sorrowing was that for loyal Southerners!"

It is said that on Sunday, the second of April, when the end was in sight, children took their places in the Sunday Schools, and congregations gathered as usual in the churches, united in their fervent prayers for their country and their soldiers. The worshipping congregation of St. Paul's Church was disturbed by the sight of a messenger who walked up the middle aisle to the pew where Jefferson Davis was sitting, spoke hastily to him, then went briskly out of the church. What could it mean?

"Ah!" says an historian, "the most sadly memorable day in Richmond's history was at hand ... the day which for four long years had hung over the city like a dreadful nightmare had come at last. The message had come from General Lee of the order to evacuate Richmond!

Beautiful Richmond to be evacuated! It was like the knell of doom.

"President Davis and the other officers of the Confederate government hastily prepared to leave, and to carry such records and stores as they were able. The officers of the State government and the soldiers were preparing to march. The news of the evacuation swept over the city, spreading dismay and doom as it went. The people began to collect their valuables and hide them or pack them to carry to a place of safety, if any such place could be found; and throughout the city there were scenes of indescribable confusion. The streets were blocked with furniture and other goods which people were trying to move. All government store-houses were thrown open, and what could not be carried away was left to be plundered by those who rushed in to get bacon, clothing, or whatever they could take. The Confederate troops were rapidly moving toward the South.... At one o'clock it became known that under the law of the Confederate Congress all the tobacco and cotton in the city had been ordered burned to keep it out of the hands of the enemy. In vain the Mayor sent a committee to remonstrate against burning the warehouses. No heed was paid to the order, and soon tongues of lurid flame were leaping from building to building, until the conflagration was beyond all control. Men and women were like frenzied demons in their efforts to save property; there was terrific looting. Wagons and carts were hastily loaded with goods; some carried their things in wheel-barrows, some in their arms. Women tugged at barrels of flour, and children vainly tried to move boxes of tobacco. The sidewalks were strewn with silks, satins, bonnets, fancy goods, shoes, and all sorts of merchandise. There was no law and there were no officers; there was only confusion, helpless despair on every side. Before sunrise there was a terrific explosion which shook the whole city; the magazine back of the poorhouse was blown up.... At six o'clock in the morning the evacuation was complete, and the railroad bridges were set on fire."

The conflagration was at its height when the vanguard of the Federal army entered the city, the cavalry galloping at full speed.

"Which is the way to the Capitol?" they shouted, then dashed up Governor Street, while a bitter wail rose from the people of Richmond.

"The Yankees! The Yankees! Oh, the Yankees have taken our city!"

As the cry went up, a United States flag was unfurled over the Capitol. At once General Weitzel took command and ordered the soldiers to stop all pillaging and restore order to the city; but it was many hours before the command could be fully carried out. Then and only then did the exhausted, panic-stricken, heart-sick people fully realize the hideous disaster which had come to their beloved city; only when they saw the destruction and desolation wrought by the fire did they fully grasp the awful meaning of the cry, "On to Richmond!"

which for four long years had been the watch-word of the Union forces.