Books: With Lee in Virginia; A Story Of The American Civil War

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Prepared by David Reed haradda@aol.com or davidr@inconnect.com

With Lee in Virginia
A Story Of The American Civil War.

by G.A. Henty

PREFACE.

My Dear Lads:

The Great War between the Northern and Southern States of
America possesses a peculiar interest for us, not only because it
was a struggle between two sections of a people akin to us in race
and language, but because of the heroic courage with which the
weaker party, with ill-fed, ill-clad, ill-equipped regiments, for four
years sustained the contest with an adversary not only possessed of
immense numerical superiority, but having the command of the
sea, and being able to draw its arms and munitions of war from all
the manufactories of Europe. Authorities still differ as to the rights
of the case. The Confederates firmly believed that the States
having voluntarily united, retained the right of withdrawing from
the Union when they considered it for their advantage to do so.
The Northerners took the opposite point of view, and an appeal to
arms became inevitable. During the first two years of the war the
struggle was conducted without inflicting unnecessary hardship
upon the general population. But later on the character of the war
changed, and the Federal armies carried wide-spread destruction
wherever they marched. Upon the other hand, the moment the
struggle was over the conduct of the conquerors was marked by a
clemency and generosity altogether unexampled in history, a
complete amnesty being granted, and none, whether soldiers or
civilians, being made to suffer for their share in the rebellion. The
credit of this magnanimous conduct was to a great extent due to
Generals Grant and Sherman, the former of whom took upon
himself the responsibility of granting terms which, although they
were finally ratified by his government, were at the time received
with anger and indignation in the North. It was impossible, in the
course of a single volume, to give even a sketch of the numerous
and complicated operations of the war, and I have therefore
confined myself to the central point of the great struggle--the
attempts of the Northern armies to force their way to Richmond,
the capital of Virginia and the heart of the Confederacy. Even in
recounting the leading events in these campaigns, I have burdened
my story with as few details as possible, it being my object now, as
always, to amuse as well as to give instruction in the facts of
history.

G. A. HENTY.

Contents

Chapter 1. A Virginian Plantation.
Chapter 2. Buying a Slave.
Chapter 3. Aiding a Runaway.
Chapter 4. Safely Back.
Chapter 5. Secession.
Chapter 6. Bull Run.
Chapter 7. The Merrimac and the Monitor.
Chapter 8. McClellan's Advance.
Chapter 9. A Prisoner.
Chapter 10. The Escape.
Chapter 11. Fugitives.
Chapter 12. The Bush-Wackers.
Chapter 13. Laid Up.
Chapter 14. Across the Border.
Chapter 15. Fredericksburg.
Chapter 16. The Search for Dinah.
Chapter 17. Chancellorsville.
Chapter 18. A Perilous Undertaking.
Chapter 19. Free.
Chapter 20. The End of the Struggle.

WITH LEE IN VIRGINIA:
A STORY OF THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR

CHAPTER I. A VIRGINIAN PLANTATION.

"I WON'T have it, Pearson; so it's no use your talking. If I had my
way you shouldn't touch any of the field hands. And when I get
my way-that won't be so very long-I will take good care you sha'n't.
But you sha'n't hit Dan."

"He is not one of the regular house hands," was the reply; "and I
shall appeal to Mrs. Wingfield as to whether I am to be interfered
with in the discharge of my duties."

"You may appeal to my mother if you like, but I don't think that
you will get much by it. I tell you you are a deal too fond of that
whip, Pearson. It never was heard of on the estate during my
father's time, and it sha'n't be again when it comes to be mine, I
can tell you. Come along, Dan; I want you at the stables."

So saying, Vincent Wingfield turned on his heel, and followed by
Dan, a negro lad of some eighteen years old, be walked off toward
the house, leaving Jonas Pearson, the overseer of the Orangery
estate, looking after him with an evil expression of face.

Vincent Wingfield was the son of an English officer, who, making
a tour in the States, had fallen in love with and won the hand of
Winifred Cornish, a rich Virginian heiress, and one of the belles of
Richmond. After the marriage he had taken her home to visit his
family in England; but she had not been there many weeks before
the news arrived of the sudden death of her father. A month later
she and her husband returned to Virginia, as her presence was
required there in reference to business matters connected with the
estate, of which she was now the mistress.

The Orangery, so called from a large conservatory built by Mrs.
Wingfield's grandfather, was the family seat, and the broad lands
around it were tilled by upward of two hundred slaves. There were
in addition three other properties lying in different parts of the
State. Here Vincent, with two sisters, one older and one younger
than himself, had been born. When he was eight years old Major
and Mrs. Wingfield had gone over with their children to England,
and had left Vincent there for four years at school, his holidays
being spent at the house of his father's brother, a country
gentleman in Sussex. Then he had been sent for unexpectedly; his
father saying that his health was not good, and that he should like
his son to be with him. A year later his father died.

Vincent was now nearly sixteen years old, and would upon coming
of age assume the reins of power at the Orangery, of which his
mother, however, would be the actual mistress as long as she lived.
The four years Vincent had passed in the English school had done
much to render the institution of slavery repugnant to him, and his
father had had many serious talks with him during the last year of
his life, and had shown him that there was a good deal to be said
upon both sides of the subject.

"There are good plantations and bad plantations, Vincent; and
there are many more good ones than bad ones. There are brutes to
be found everywhere. There are bad masters in the Southern
States just as there are had landlords in every European country.
'But even from self-interest alone, a planter has greater reason for
caring for the health and comfort of his slaves than an English
farmer has in caring for the comfort of his laborers. Slaves are
valuable property, and if they are overworked or badly cared for
they decrease in value. Whereas if the laborer falls sick or is
unable to do his work the farmer has simply to hire another hand.
It is as much the interest of a planter to keep his slaves in good
health and spirits as it is for a farmer to feed and attend to his
horses properly.

"Of the two, I consider that the slave with a fairly kind master is to
the full as happy as the ordinary English laborer. He certainly does
not work so hard, if he is ill he is carefully attended to, he is well
fed, he has no cares or anxieties whatever, and when old and past
work he has no fear of the workhouse staring him in the face. At
the same time I am quite ready to grant that there are horrible
abuses possible under the laws connected with slavery.

"The selling of slaves, that is to say, the breaking up of families
and selling them separately, is horrible and abominable. If an
estate were sold together with all the slaves upon it, there would be
no more hardship in the matter than there is when an estate
changes hands in England, and the laborers upon it work for the
new master instead of the old. Were I to liberate all the slaves on
this estate to-morrow and to send them North, I do not think that
they would be in any way benefited by the change. They would
still have to work for their living as they do now, and being
naturally indolent and shiftless would probably fare much worse.
But against the selling of families separately and the use of the
lash I set my face strongly.

"At the same time, my boy, whatever your sentiments may be on
this subject, you must keep your mouth closed as to them. Owing
to the attempts of Northern Abolitionists, who have come down
here stirring up the slaves to discontent, it is not advisable, indeed
it is absolutely dangerous, to speak against slavery in the Southern
States. The institution is here, and we must make the best we can
of it. People here are very sore at the foul slanders that have been
published by Northern writers. There have been many atrocities
perpetrated undoubtedly, by brutes who would have been brutes
whenever they bad been born; but to collect a series of such
atrocities, to string them together into a story, and to hold them up,
as Mrs. Beecher Stowe has, as a picture of slave-life in the
Southern States, is as gross a libel as if any one were to make a
collection of all the wife-beatings and assaults of drunken English
ruffians, and to publish them as a picture of the average life of
English people.

"Such libels as these have done more to embitter the two sections
of America against each other than anything else. Therefore,
Vincent, my advice to you is, be always kind to your slaves-not
over-indulgent, because they are very like children and indulgence
spoils them-but be at the same time firm and kind to them, and
with other people avoid entering into any discussions or
expressing any opinion with regard to slavery. You can do no
good and you can do much harm. Take things as you find them and
make the best of them. I trust that the time may come when
slavery will be abolished; but I hope, for the sake of the slaves
themselves, that when this is done it will be done gradually and
thoughtfully, for otherwise it would inflict terrible hardship and
suffering upon them as well as upon their masters."

There were many such conversations between father and son, for
feeling on the subject ran very high in the Southern States, and the
former felt that it was of the utmost importance to his son that he
should avoid taking any strong line in the matter. Among the old
families of Virginia there was indeed far less feeling on this
subject than in some of the other States. Knowing the good feeling
that almost universally existed between themselves aid their
slaves, the gentry of Virginia regarded with contempt the
calumnies of which they were the subject. Secure in the affection
of their slaves, an affection which was after-ward abundantly
proved during the course of the war, they scarcely saw the ugly
side of the question. The worst masters were the smallest ones;
the man who owned six slaves was far more apt to extort the
utmost possible work from them than the planter who owned three
or four hundred. And the worst masters of all were those who,
having made a little money in trade or speculation in the towns,
purchased a dozen slaves, a small piece of land, and tried to set up
as gentry.

In Virginia the life of the large planters was almost a patriarchal
one; the indoor slaves were treated with extreme indulgence, and
were permitted a far higher degree of freedom of remark and
familiarity than is the case with servants in an English household.
They had been the nurses or companions of the owners when
children, had grown up with them, and regarded themselves, and
were regarded by them, as almost part of the family. There was, of
course, less connection between the planters and their field hands;
but these also had for the most part been born on the estate, had as
children been taught to look up to their white masters and
mistresses, and to receive many little kindnesses at their hands.

They had been cared for in sickness, and knew that they would be
provided for in old age. Each had his little allotment, and could
raise fruit, vegetables, and fowls for his own use or for sale in his
leisure time. The fear of loss of employment or the pressure of
want, ever present to English laborers, had never fallen upon them.
The climate was a lovely one, and their work far less severe than
that of men forced to toil in cold and wet, winter and summer.
The institution of slavery assuredly was capable of terrible abuses,
and was marked in many instances by abominable cruelty and
oppression; but taken all in all, the negroes on a well-ordered
estate, under kind masters, were probably a happier class of people
than the laborers upon any estate in Europe.

Jonas Pearson had been overseer in the time of Major Wingfield,
but his authority had at that time been comparatively small, for the
major himself personally supervised the whole working of the
estate, and was greatly liked by the slaves, whose chief affections
were, however, naturally bestowed upon their mistress, who had
from childhood been brought up in their midst. Major Wingfield
had not liked his overseer, but he had never had any ground to
justify him making a change. Jonas, who was a Northern man,
was always active and energetic; all Major Wingfield's orders were
strictly and punctually carried out, and although he disliked the
man, his employer acknowledged him to be an excellent servant.

After the major's death, Jonas Pearson had naturally obtained
greatly increased power and authority. Mrs. Wingfield had great
confidence in him, his accounts were always clear and precise, and
although the profits of the estate were not quite so large as they
had been in her husband's lifetime, this was always satisfactorily
explained by a fall in prices, or by a part of the crops being
affected by the weather. She flattered herself that she herself man.
aged the estate, and at times rode over it, made suggestions, and
issued orders, but this was only in fits and starts; and although
Jonas came up two or three times a week to the house nominally to
receive her orders, he managed her so adroitly that while she
believed that everything was done by her directions, she in reality
only followed out the suggestions which, in the first place, came
from him.

She was aware, however, that there was less content and happiness
on the estate than there had been in the old times. Complaints had
reached her from time to time of overwork and harsh treatment.
But upon inquiring into these matters, Jonas had always such
plausible reasons to give that she was convinced he was in the
right, and that the fault was among the slaves themselves, who
tried to take advantage of the fact that they had no longer a
master's eye upon them, and accordingly tried to shirk work, and to
throw discredit upon the man who looked after the interests of
their mistress; and so gradually Mrs. Wingfield left the
management of affairs more and more in the hands of Jonas, and
relied more implicitly upon him.

The overseer spared no pains to gain the good-will of Vincent.
When the latter declared that the horse he rode had not sufficient
life and spirit for him, Jonas had set inquiries on foot, and had
selected for him a horse which, for speed and bottom, had no
superior in the State. One of Mrs. Wingfleld's acquaintances,
however, upon hearing that she had purchased the animal, told her
that it was notorious for its vicious temper, and she spoke angrily
to Jonas on the subject in the presence of Vincent. The overseer
excused himself by saying that he had certainly heard that the
horse was high spirited and needed a good rider, and that he should
not have thought of selecting it had he not known that Mr. Vincent
was a first-class rider, and would not care to have a horse that any
child could manage.

The praise was not undeserved. The gentlemen of Virginia were
celebrated as good riders; and Major Wingfield, himself a cavalry
man, had been anxious that Vincent should maintain the credit of
his English blood, and had placed him on a pony as soon as he was
able to sit on one. A pony had been kept for his use during his
holidays at his uncle's in England, and upon his return Vincent
had, except during the hours he spent with his father, almost lived
on horseback, either riding about the estate, or paying visits to the
houses of other planters.

For an hour or more every day he exercised his father's horses in a
paddock near the house, the major being wheeled down in an
easy-chair and superintending his riding. As these horses had little
to do and were full of spirit, Vincent's powers were often taxed to
the utmost, and he had many falls; but the soil was light, and he
had learned the knack of falling easily, and from constant practice
was able at the age of fourteen to stick on firmly even without a
saddle, and was absolutely fearless as to any animal he mounted.

In the two years which had followed he had kept up his riding.
Every morning after breakfast he rode to Richmond, six miles
distant, put up his horse at some stable there, and spent three hours
at school; the rest of the day was his own, and he would often ride
off with some of his schoolfellows who had also come in from a
distance, and not return home till late in the evening. Vincent took
after his English father rather than his Virginian mother both in
appearance and character, and was likely to become as tall and
brawny a man as the former had been when he first won the love
of the rich Virginian heiress.

He was full of life and energy, and in this respect offered a strong
contrast to most of his schoolfellows of the same age. For
although splendid riders and keen sportsmen, the planters of
Virginia were in other respects inclined to indolence; the result
partly of the climate, partly of their being waited upon from
childhood by attendants ready to carry out every wish. He had his
father's cheerful disposition and good temper, together with the
decisive manner so frequently acquired by a service in the army,
and at the same time be had something of the warmth and
enthusiasm of the Virginian character.

Good rider as he was he was somewhat surprised at the horse the
overseer had selected for him. It was certainly a splendid animal,
with great bone and power; but there was no mistaking the
expression of its turned-back eye, and the ears that lay almost flat
on the head when any one approached him.

"It is a splendid animal, no doubt, Jonas," he said the first time lie
inspected it; "but he certainly looks as if lie had a beast of a
temper. I fear what was told my mother about him is no
exaggeration; for Mr. Markham told me to-day, when I rode down
there with his son, and said that we had bought Wildfire, that a
friend of his had had him once, and only kept him for a week, for
he was the most vicious brute he ever saw."

"I am sorry I have bought him now, sir," Jonas said. "Of course I
should not have done so if I had heard these things before; but I
was told he was one of the finest horses in the country, only a little
tricky, and as his price was so reasonable I thought it a great
bargain. But I see now I was wrong, and that it wouldn't be right
for you to mount him; so I think we had best send him in on
Saturday to the market and let it go for what it will fetch. You see,
sir, if you had been three or four years older it would have been
different; but naturally at your age you don't like to ride such a
horse as that."

"I sha'n't give it up without a trial," Vincent said shortly. "It is
about the finest horse I ever saw; and if it hadn't been for its
temper, it would be cheap at five times the sum you gave for it. I
have ridden a good many bad-tempered horses for my friends
during the last year, and the worst of them couldn't get me off."

"Well, sir, of course you will do as you please," Jonas said; "but
please to remember if any harm comes of it that I strongly advised
you not to have anything to do with it, and I did my best to
dissuade you from trying."

Vincent nodded carelessly, and then turned to the black groom.

"Jake, get out that cavalry saddle of my father's, with the high
cantle and pommel, and the rolls for the knees. It's like an
armchair, and if one can't stick on on that, one deserves to be
thrown."

While the groom was putting on the saddle, Vincent stood patting
the horse's head and talking to it, and then taking its rein led it
down into the inclosure.

"No, I don't want the whip, " he said, as Jake offered him one. "I
have got the spurs, and likely enough the horse's temper may have
been spoiled by knocking it about with a whip; but we will try
what kindness will do with it first."

"Me no like his look, Massa Vincent; he debbie ob a hoss dat."

"I don't think he has a nice temper, Jake; but people learn to
control their temper, and I don't see why horse shouldn't. At any
rate we will have a try at it. He looks as if he appreciates being
patted and spoken to already. Of course if you treat a horse like a
savage he will become savage. Now, stand out of the way."

Gathering the reins together, and placing one hand upon the
pommel, Vincent sprang into the saddle without touching the
stirrups; then he sat for a minute or two patting the horse's neck.
Wildfire, apparently disgusted at having allowed himself to be
mounted so suddenly, lashed out viciously two or three times, and
then refused to move. For half an hour Vincent tried the effect of
patient coax-jug, but in vain.

"Well, if you won't do it by fair means you must by foul," Vincent
said at last, and sharply pricked him with his spurs.

Wildfire sprang into the air, and then began a desperate series of
efforts to rid himself of his rider, rearing and kicking in such quick
succession that he seemed half the time in the air. Finding after
awhile that his efforts were unavailing, he subsided at last into
sulky immovability. Again Vincent tried coaxing and patting, but
as no success attended these efforts, he again applied the spur
sharply. This time the horse responded by springing forward like
an arrow from a bow, dashed at the top of his speed across the
inclosure, cleared the high fence without an effort, and then set off
across the country.

He had attempted to take the bit in his teeth, but with a sharp jerk
as he drove the spurs in, Vincent had defeated his intention. He
now did not attempt to check or guide him, but keeping a light
hand on the reins let him go his own course. Vincent knew that so
long as the horse was going full speed it could attempt no trick to
unseat him, and he therefore sat easily in his saddle.

For six miles Wildfire continued his course, clearing every
obstacle without abatement to his speed, and delighting his rider
with his power and jumping qualities. Occasionally, only when
the course he was taking would have led him to obstacles
impossible for the best jumper to surmount, Vincent attempted to
put the slightest pressure upon one rein or the other, so as to direct
it to an easier point.

At the end of six miles the horse's speed began slightly to abate,
and Vincent, abstaining from the use of his spurs, pressed it with
his knees and spoke to it cheerfully urging it forward. He now
from time to time bent forward and patted it, and for another six
miles kept it going at a speed almost as great as that at which it
had started Then he allowed it gradually to slacken its pace, until
at last first the gallop and then the trot ceased, and it broke into a
walk.

"You have had a fine gallop, old fellow," Vincent said, patting it;
"and so have I. There's been nothing for you to lose your temper
about, and the next road we come upon we will turn our face
homeward. Half a dozen lessons like this, and then no doubt we
shall be good friends."

The journey home was performed at a walk, Vincent talking the
greater part of the time to the horse. It took a good deal more than
six lessons before Wildfire would start without a preliminary
struggle with his master, but in the end kindness and patience
conquered. Vincent often visited the horse in the stables, and,
taking with him an apple or some pieces of sugar, spent some time
there talk. mg to and petting it. He never carried a whip, and never
used the spurs except in forcing it to make its first start.

Had the horse been naturally ill-tempered Vincent would probably
have failed, but, as he happened afterward to learn, its first owner
had been a hot-tempered and passionate young planter, who,
instead of being patient with it, had beat it about the head, and so
rendered it restive and bad-tempered. Had Vincent not laid aside
his whip before mounting it for the first time, he probably would
never have effected a cure. It was the fact that the animal had no
longer a fear of his old enemy the whip as much as the general
course of kindness and good treatment that had effected the
change in his behavior.

It was just when Vincent had established a good under standing
between himself and Wildfire that he had the altercation with the
overseer, whom he found about to flog the young negro Dan.
Pearson had sent the lad half an hour before on a message to some
slaves at work at the other end of the estate, and had found him
sitting on the ground watching a tree in which he had discovered a
possum. That Dan deserved punishment was undoubted. He had at
present no regular employment upon the estate Jake, his father,
was head of the stables, and Dan had made himself useful in odd
jobs about the horses, and expected to become one of the regular
stable hands. The overseer was of opinion that there were already
more negroes in the stable than could find employment, and had
urged upon Mrs. Wingfield that one of the hands there and the boy
Dan should be sent out to the fields. She, however, refused.

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