If reason had ruled, the Gulf States of the South would never have
ordered their representatives to leave Washington on the election of
Abraham Lincoln. The new administration could have done nothing with the
Congress chosen. The President had been elected on a fluke because
of the division of the opposition into three tickets. Lincoln was a
minority President and was powerless except in the use of the veto.
If the Gulf States had paused for a moment they could have seen that
such an administration, whatever its views about Slavery, would have
failed, and the next election would have been theirs. The moment they
withdrew their members of Congress, however, the new party had a
majority and could shape the nation's laws.
The crowd mind acts on blind impulse, never on reason.
In spite of the President's humane purpose to keep peace when he
delivered his first inaugural, he had scarcely taken his seat at the
head of his Cabinet when the mob mind swept him from his moorings and he
was caught in the torrent of the war mania.
The firing on Fort Sumter was not the first shot by the Secessionists.
They had fired on the _Star of the West_, a ship sent to the relief
of the Fort, weeks before. They had driven her back to sea. But the
President at that moment had sufficient power to withstand the cry for
blood. At the next shot he succumbed to the inevitable and called for
75,000 volunteers to invade the South. This act of war was a violation
of his powers under Constitutional law. Congress alone could declare
war. But Congress was not in session.
The mob had, in fact, declared war. The President and his Cabinet were
forced to bow to its will and risk their necks on the outcome of the
struggle.
So long as Virginia, North Carolina and Tennessee refused to secede and
stood with the Border States of Maryland, Missouri and Kentucky inside
the Union, the Confederacy organized at Montgomery, Alabama, must remain
a mere political feint.
The call of the President on Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee,
Kentucky, Missouri and Maryland, all slave States, to furnish their
quota of troops to fight the seceders, was in effect a declaration of
war by a united North upon the South.
Virginia had refused to join the Confederacy before by an overwhelming
majority. All eyes were again turned on the Old Dominion. Would she
accept the President's command and send her quota of troops to fight her
sisters of the South, or would she withdraw from the Union?
The darkest day of its history was dawning on Arlington. Lee had spent a
sleepless night watching the flickering lights of the Capitol, waiting,
hoping, praying for a message from the Convention at Richmond. On that
message hung the present, the future, and the sacred glory of the past.
The lamp on the table in the hall was still burning dimly at dawn when
Mary Lee came downstairs and pulled the old-fashioned bell cord which
summoned the butler.
Ben entered with a bow.
"You ring for me, Missy?"
"Yes. You sent to town to see if an Extra had been issued?"
"Yassam. De boy come back more'n a hour ago."
"There was none?"
"Nomum."
"And he couldn't find Lieutenant Stuart?"
"Nomum. He look fur him in de telegraph office an' everywhar."
"Why don't he come--why don't he come?" she sighed.
"I spec dem wires is done down, an' de news 'bout Secesum come froo de
country fum Richmon' by horseback, M'am."
The girl sighed again wearily.
"The coffee and sandwiches ready, Ben?"
"Yassam. All on de table waitin'. De coffee gittin' cold."
"I'll bring Papa down, if I can get him to come."
"Yassam. I hopes ye bring him. He sho must be wore out."
"It's daylight," she said, "open the windows and put out the lamp."
Mary climbed the stairs again to get her father to eat. Ben drew the
curtains and the full light of a beautiful spring morning flooded the
room. A mocking bird was singing in the holly. A catbird cried from
a rosebush, a redbird flashed and chirped from the hedge and a colt
whinnied for his mother.
The old negro lowered the lamp, blew it out and began to straighten the
room. A soft knock sounded on the front door.
He stopped and listened. That was queer. No guest could be coming to
Arlington at dawn. Lieutenant Stuart would come on horseback and the
ring of his horse's hoofs could be heard for half a mile.
He turned back to his work and the knock was repeated, this time louder.
He cautiously approached the door.
"Who's dar?"
"Hit's me."
"Me who?"
"Hit's me--Sam."
"'Tain't no Sam nuther--"
"'Tis me."
"Sam's bin free mos' ten year now an' he's livin' in New York--"
"I done come back. Lemme come in a minute!"
Ben was not sure. He picked up a heavy cane, held it in his right hand
and cautiously opened the door with his left, as Sam entered.
The old man dropped the cane and stepped back in dumb amazement. It was
some time before he spoke.
"Name er Gawd, Sam--hit is you."
"Sho, hit's me!"
"What yer doin' here?"
"I come to see my old marster when I hears all dis talk 'bout war. Whar
is he?"
Ben lifted his eyes to the ceiling and spoke in a solemn tone:
"Up dar in his room all night trampin' back an' forth lak er lion in
de cage, waitin' fur Marse Stuart ter fetch de news fum Richmond 'bout
secessun--"
"Secessun?"
Ben nodded--and raised his eyes in a dreamy look.
"Some say Ole Virginy gwine ter stay in de Union. Some say she's a gwine
ter secede. De Convenshun in Richmon' wuz votin' on hit yestiddy. Marse
Stuart gone ter town ter fetch de news ter Arlington."
Sam stepped close and searched Ben's face.
"What's my ole marster dat set me free gwine ter do?"
"Dat's what everybody's axin. He bin prayin' up dar all night."
Sam glanced toward the stairway and held his silence for a while. He
spoke finally with firm conviction.
"Well, I'se gwine wid him. Ef he go wid de Union, I goes. Ef he go wid
ole Virginy, I go wid ole Virginy. Whichever way _he_ go, dat's de
_right_ way--"
"Dat's so, too!" Ben responded fervently.
Sam advanced to the old butler with the quick step of the days when he
was his efficient helper.
"What ye want me ter do?"
Ben led him to the portico and pointed down the white graveled way to
Washington.
"Run doun de road ter de rise er dat hill an' stay dar. De minute yer
see a hoss cross dat bridge--hit's Marse Stuart. Yer fly back here an'
tell me--"
Sam nodded and disappeared. Ben hurried back into the hall, as Mary and
her mother came down the stairs.
Mrs. Lee was struggling to control her fears.
"No sign of Lieutenant Stuart yet, Ben?"
"Nomum. I'se er watchin'."
"Look again and see if there's any dust on that long stretch beyond the
river--"
Ben shook his head.
"Yassam, I look."
He passed out the front door still wagging his head in deep sympathy for
the stricken mistress of the great house.
Mary slipped her arm around her mother, and used the pet name she spoke
in moments of great joy and sorrow.
"Oh, Mim dear, you mustn't worry so!"
Her mother's lips trembled. She tried to be strong and failed. The tears
came at last streaming down her cheeks.
"I can't help it, darling. Life hangs on this message--our home--"
She paused and her eyes wandered about the familiar room and its
furnishings.
"You know how I love this home. It's woven into the very fiber of my
heart. Our future--all that we have on earth--it's more than I can
bear--"
The daughter drew the dear face to her lips.
"But why try to take it all on our shoulders, dearest? We must leave
Papa to fight this out alone. We can't decide it for him."
The mother brushed her tears away and responded cheerfully.
"Yes, I know, dear. Your father didn't leave his room all day yesterday.
He ate no dinner. No supper. All night the tramp of his feet overhead
has only been broken when he fell on his knees to pray--"
Her voice wandered off as in a half dream. She paused, and then rushed
on impetuously.
"Why, why can't we hear from Richmond? The Convention should have voted
before noon yesterday. And we've waited all night--"
"The authorities may be holding back the news."
"But why should they suppress _such_ news? The world must know."
She stopped suddenly--as if stunned by the thought that oppressed her.
She seized Mary's hand, and asked tensely:
"What do you think, dear? Has Virginia left the Union?"
A quick answer was on the young lips. She had a very clear opinion. She
had talked to Stuart. And his keen mind had seen the inevitable. She
didn't have the heart to tell her mother. She feigned a mind blank from
weariness.
"I can't think, honey. I'm too tired."
Ben came back shaking his gray head.
"Nomum. Dey ain't no sign on de road yet."
The waiting wife and mother cried in an anguish she could not control.
"Why--why--why?"
Ben sought to distract her thoughts with the habit of house control. He
spoke in his old voice of friendly scolding.
"Ain't Marse Robert comin' doun to his coffee, M'am?"
"Not yet, Ben. I couldn't persuade him." The mistress caught the effort
of her faithful servant to help in his humble way and it touched her.
She was making a firm resolution to regain her self-control when a
distant cry was heard from the roadway.
"Uncle Ben!"
"What's dat?" the old man asked.
"He's coming?" Mrs. Lee gasped.
"I dunno, M'am. I hears sumfin!"
Sam's cry echoed near the house now in growing excitement.
"Uncle Ben--Uncle Ben!"
"See, Ben, see quick--" Mary cried.
"Yassam. He's comin', sho. He's seed him."
The mother's face was uplifted in prayer.
"God's will be done!"
The words came in a bare whisper. And then as if in answer to the cry of
her heart she caught new hope and turned to her daughter.
"You know, dear, the first Convention voted against Secession!"
Sam reached the door and met Ben.
"Uncle Ben--he's a comin'--Marse Stuart's horse! I seen him 'way 'cross
de ribber fust--des one long, white streak er dust ez fur ez de eye can
reach!"
The mother gripped Mary's arm with cruel force. The strain was again
more than she could bear.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, what have they done? What have they done?"
Ben entered the hall holding himself erect with the dignity of one who
must bear great sorrows with his people. The mistress called to him
weakly:
"Tell Colonel Lee, Ben."
The old man bowed gravely.
"Yassam. Right away, M'am."
Ben hurried to call his master as Sam edged into the front door and
smiled at his mistress.
Mrs. Lee saw and recognized him for the first time. His loyalty touched
her deeply in the hour of trial. She extended her hand in warm greeting.
"Why, _Sam_, you've come home!"
"Yassam. I come back ter stan' by my folks when dey needs me."
Mary's eyes were misty as she smiled her welcome.
"You're a good boy, Sam."
"Yassam. Marse Robert teach me."
The echo of Stuart's horse's hoof rang under the portico and Sam hurried
to meet him.
His clear voice called:
"Don't put 'im up, boy!"
Mary's heart began to pound. She knew he would be galloping down the
white graveled way again in a few minutes. His next order confirmed her
fear.
"Just give him some water!"
"Yassah!"
The two women stood huddled close in tense anxiety.
Lee hurried down the stairs and met Stuart at the door. Before the
familiarity of a handshake or word of welcome he asked:
"What news, Lieutenant?"
Stuart spoke with deep emotion. On every word the man and the woman hung
breathlessly.
"It has come, sir. Virginia has answered to the President's call to send
troops against her own people. She has sacrificed all save honor. The
vote of the Convention was overwhelming. She has withdrawn from the
Union--"
A moment's deathly silence. And the cry of pain from a woman's white
lips. Mary caught her mother in her arms and held her firmly. The cry
wrung her young heart.
"Oh, dear God, have mercy on us--and give us strength to bear it--"
Stuart hurried to her side and tried to break the blow with cheerful
words.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Lee. The South is right."
Lee had not spoken. His brilliant eyes had the look of a man who walks
in his sleep. They were in the world but not of it. The deep things of
eternity were in their brooding. He waked at last and turned to Stuart
sadly.
"God save our country, my boy."
He paused and looked out the doorway on the beautiful green of the lawn.
The perfume from the rose garden stole in on the fresh breeze that
stirred from the river.
"A frightful blow," he went on dreamily, "this news you bring."
Stuart's young body stiffened.
"You're the foremost citizen of Virginia, sir. Others may doubt and
waver and be confused. I think I know what you're going to do, in the
end--"
"It's hard--it's hard," the strong man cried bitterly.
The mother and daughter studied his face in eager, anxious waiting. On
his word life hung. Stuart glanced at their tense faces and couldn't
find speech. He turned and spoke briskly.
"I must hurry, sir. I'll be in Richmond before sunset."
The sound of carriage wheels grated on the road and a foaming pair of
horses drew under the portico. A woman sprang out.
Mrs. Lee turned to the Colonel.
"It's your sister, Annie, Colonel."
"Yes," Stuart added, "I passed her on the way--"
Mrs. Marshall hurried to greet Mrs. Lee. The two women embraced and wept
in silence.
"Mary!"
"Annie!"
The names were barely breathed.
Mary silently kissed her aunt as she turned from her mother. The
Colonel's sister raised her eyes and saw Stuart. Her tones were sharp
with the ring of a commander giving orders:
"Our army is marching, Lieutenant Stuart! You here in civilian clothes?"
The strong, young body stiffened.
"I have resigned my commission in the United States Army, Mrs.
Marshall--"
Her finger rose in an imperious gesture.
"You will live to regret it, sir!"
Lee frowned and laid his hand on his sister's arm in a gesture of
appeal.
"Annie, dear, please."
She regained her poise at the touch of his hand and turned to Mrs. Lee.
Stuart extended his hand briskly.
"Goodbye, sir. I hope to see you in Richmond soon--"
Lee's answer was gravely spoken.
"Goodbye, my boy. I honor you in your quick decision, with the clear
vision of youth. We, older men, must halt and pray, and feel our way."
With a laugh in his blue eyes Stuart paused at the door half embarrassed
at Mrs. Marshall's presence. He waved his hat to the group.
"Well, goodbye, everybody! I'm off to join the Cavalry!"
Outside as he hurried to his horse he waved again.
"Goodbye--!"
There was a moment's painful silence. They listened to the beat of his
horse's hoof on the white roadway toward Washington. As the tall soldier
listened he heard the roar of the hoofs of coming legions. And a
warrior's soul leaped to the saddle. But the soul of the man, of the
father and brother uttered a cry of mortal pain. He looked about the
hall in a dazed way as if unconscious of the presence of the women of
his home.
Mrs. Lee saw his deep anxiety and whispered to Mrs. Marshall.
"Come to my room, Annie, and rest before you say anything to Robert--"
She shook her head.
"No--no, my dear. I can't. My heart's too full. I can't rest. It's no
use trying."
The wife took both her hands.
"Then remember, that his heart is even fuller than yours."
"Yes, I know."
"And you cannot possibly be suffering as he is."
"I'll not forget, dear."
Mrs. Lee pressed her hands firmly.
"And say nothing that you'll live to regret?"
"I promise, Mary."
"Please!"
With a lingering look of sympathy for brother and sister, Mrs. Lee
softly left the room.
Lee stood gazing through the window across the shining waters of the
river whose mirror but a few months ago had reflected the distorted
faces of John Brown and his men at Harper's Ferry. It had come, the
vision he had seen as he looked on the dark stains that fateful morning.
He dreaded this interview with his sister. He knew the views of Judge
Marshall, her husband. He knew her own love for the Union.
She was struggling for control of Her emotions and her voice was
strained.
"You've--you've heard this awful news from Richmond?"
"Yes," he answered quietly. "And I've long felt it coming. The first
thunderbolt struck us at Harper's Ferry. The storm has broken now--"
"What are you going to do?"
She asked the question as if half afraid to pronounce the words. Lee
turned away in silence. She followed him and laid a hand on his arm.
"You'll let me tell you all that's in my heart, my brother?"
The soldier was a boy again. He took his sister's hand and stroked it as
he had in the old days at Stratford.
"Of course, my dear."
"And remember that we _are_ brother and sister?"
"Always."
She clung to his hand and made no effort now to keep back the tears.
"And that I shall always believe in you and be proud of you--"
A sob caught her voice and she could not go on. He pressed her hand.
"It's sweet to hear you say this, Annie, in the darkest hour of my
life--"
She interrupted him in quick, passionate appeal.
"Why should it be the darkest hour, Robert? What have you or I, or our
people, to do with the madmen who are driving the South over the brink
of this precipice?"
Lee shook his head.
"The people of the South are not being driven now, my dear--"
He stopped. His eyes flashed as his words quickened.
"They are rushing with a fierce shout as one man. The North thinks that
only a small part of the Southern people are in this revolution, misled
by politicians. The truth is, the masses are sweeping their leaders
before them, as leaves driven by a storm. The cotton states are
unanimous. Virginia has seceded. North Carolina and Tennessee will
follow her to-morrow, and the South a Unit, the Union is divided."
The sister drew herself up with pride, and squarely faced him. She spoke
with deliberation.
"Our families, Robert, from the beginning have stood for the glory of
the Union. It is unthinkable that you should leave it. Such men as
Edmund Ruffin--yes--the impulsive old firebrand has already volunteered
as a private and gone to South Carolina. He pulled the lanyard that
fired the first shot against Fort Sumter. We have nothing in common with
such men--"
Lee lifted his hand in protest.
"Yes, we have, my dear. We are both sons of Virginia, our mother and the
mother of this Republic."
"All the more reason why I'm begging to-day that you dedicate your
genius, your soul and body to fight the men who would destroy the
Union!"
Lee raised his eyes as if in prayer and drew a deep breath.
"There's but one thing for me to decide, Annie--my duty."
His sister clasped her hands nervously and glanced about the room. Her
eyes rested on the portraits of Washington, and his wife and she turned
quickly.
"Your wife is the grand-daughter of Martha Washington. Can you look on
that portrait of the father of this country, handed down to the mother
of your children, and dare draw your sword to destroy his work?"
"I've tried to put him in my place and ask what he would do--"
He stopped suddenly.
"What would Washington do if he stood in my place to-day?"
"My dear brother!"
"Remember now that you are appealing to me as my sister. Did Washington
allow the ties of blood to swerve him from his duty? His own mother was
a loyal subject of the King of Great Britain and died so--"
"Washington led an army of patriots in a sacred cause," she interrupted.
"Surely. But he won his first victories as a soldier fighting the
French, under the British flag. He denounced that flag, joined with the
French and forced Cornwallis to surrender to the armies of France and
the Colonies of America. He was equally right when he fought under the
British flag against the French, and when he fought with Lafayette and
Rochambeau and won our independence. Each time he fought for his rights
under law. Each time with mind and conscience clear, he answered the
call of duty. The man who does that is always right, my sister, no
matter what flag flies above him!"
"Oh, Robert, there is but one flag--the flag of Washington, and your
father, Henry Lee--"
The brother broke in quickly.
"And yet, the first blood in this conflict was drawn by a man who cursed
that flag, who again and again defied its authority, and gloried in the
fact that he had trampled it beneath his feet. The North has proclaimed
him a Saint. Their soldiers are now marching on the South singing a song
of glory to John Brown and all for which he stood. What would Washington
do if he were living, and these men were marching to invade Virginia,
put his home at Mount Vernon to the torch, and place pikes in the hands
of his slaves--"
Lee searched his sister's eyes and drove his question home.
"What would he do?"
The woman was too downright in her honesty to quibble or fence. She
couldn't answer. She flushed and hesitated.
"I don't know--I don't know. I only know," she hastened to add, "that he
couldn't be a traitor."
"Even so. Who is the traitor, my dear? The man who defies the
Constitution and the laws of the Union? Or the man who defends the law
and the rights of his fathers under it?"
Again she couldn't answer. She would not acknowledge defeat. She simply
refused to face such a problem. It led the wrong way. With quick wit
she changed her point of attack. She drew close and asked in passionate
tenderness:
"Have you counted the cost? The frightful cost which you and yours must
pay if you dare defend Virginia?"
Lee nodded his head sorrowfully.
"On my knees, I've tried to reckon it." He looked longingly over the
wide lawn that rolled in green splendor toward the river.
"I know that if I cast my lot with Virginia, this home, handed down to
us from Washington, will be lost, and its fields trampled under the
feet of hostile armies. That my wife and children may wander homeless,
dependent on the charity or courtesy of friends. The thought of it tears
my heart!"
His voice sank to a whisper. And then he lifted his head firmly.
"But I must not allow this to swerve me an inch from my duty--"
The sound of horses' hoofs again echoed on the roadway, as Ben entered
from the dining room to announce breakfast.
Lee listened.
"See who that is, Ben."
"Yassah."
As Ben passed out the door, Lee continued:
"I will not say one word to influence my three sons. I will not even
write to them. They must fight this battle out alone, as I am fighting
it out to-day."
His sister smiled wanly.
"Your sons will follow you, Robert. And so will thousands of the best
men in Virginia. Your responsibility is terrible."
Ben announced from the door.
"Mr. Francis Preston Blair, ter see you, sir."
Lee waved the butler from the room.
"I'll receive him, Ben. You can go."
"Thank God!" Mrs. Marshall breathed. "He's the most influential man
in Washington. He is in close touch with the President, and he is a
Southerner--"
She looked at her brother pleadingly.
"You'll give him the most careful hearing, Robert?"
"I don't know the object of his visit, but I'll gladly see him."
"He's a staunch Union man. He can have but one object in coming!" she
cried with elation.
With courtesy Lee met his distinguished visitor at the door and grasped
his hand.
"Walk in, Mr. Blair. You know my sister, Mrs. Marshall of Baltimore?"
Blair smiled.
"I am happy to say that Mrs. Marshall and I are the best of friends.
We have often met at the house of my son, Montgomery Blair, of Mr.
Lincoln's Cabinet."
"Let me take your hat, sir," Lee said with an answering smile.
"Thank you."
The Colonel crossed the room to place it on a table.
Mrs. Marshall took advantage of the moment to whisper to Blair.
"I've done my best. I'm afraid I haven't convinced him. May God give you
the word to speak to my brother to-day!"
Blair rubbed his hands and a look of triumph overspread his rugged face.
"He has, Madame. I have a message for him!"
"A message?"
"From the highest authority!"
"May I be present at your conference?" she pleaded eagerly.
"By all means, Madame. Stay and hear my announcement. He cannot refuse
me."
Lee sought at once to put Blair at ease on his mission.
"From my sister's remark a moment ago, I may guess the purpose of your
coming, Mr. Blair?"
His guest surveyed Lee with an expression of deep pleasure in the
unfolding of his message.
"In part, yes, you may have guessed my purpose. But I have something to
say that even your keen mind has not surmised--"
"I am honored, sir, in your call and I shall be glad to hear you."
Blair drew himself erect as if on military duty.
"Colonel Lee, I have come after a conference with President Lincoln, to
ask you to throw the power of your great name into this fight now to put
an end to chaos--"
"You have come from the President?"
"Unofficially--"
"Oh--"
"But with his full knowledge and consent."
"And what is his suggestion?"
Blair hesitated.
"He cannot make it until he first knows that you will accept his offer."
"His offer?"
Blair waited until the thought had been fully grasped and then uttered
each word with solemn emphasis.
"His offer, sir, of the supreme command of the armies of the Union--"
A cry of joy and pride came resistlessly from the sister's lips.
"Oh, Robert--Robert!"
Lee was surprised and deeply moved. He rose from his seat, walked to the
window, looked out, flushed and slowly said:
"You--you--cannot mean this--?"
Blair hastened to assure him.
"I am straight from the White House. General Scott has eagerly endorsed
your name."
"But I cannot realize this to me--from Abraham Lincoln?"
"From Abraham Lincoln, whose simple common sense is the greatest
asset to-day which the Union possesses. His position is one of frank
conciliation toward the South."
"Yet he said once that this Republic cannot endure half slave and half
free and the South interpreted that to mean--war--"
"Exactly. Crowds do not reason. They refuse to think. They refuse,
therefore, to hear his explanation of those words. He hates Slavery
as you hate Slavery. He knows, as you know, that it is doomed by the
process of time. To make this so clear that he who runs may read, he
wrote in his inaugural address in so many words his solemn pledge to
respect every right now possessed by the masters of the South under law.
_"'I have no purpose to interfere with the institution of Slavery in the
States where it exists.'"_
"His sole purpose now is to save the Union, Slavery or no Slavery--"
"Surely, Robert," his sister cried, "you can endorse that stand!"
"Mr. Lincoln," Blair went on eagerly, "is a leader whose common sense
amounts to genius. No threats or bluster, inside his own party or
outside of it, can swerve him from his high aim. He is going to save
this Union first and let all other questions bide their time."
Lee searched Blair with his keen eyes.
"But Mr. Lincoln, without the authority of Congress, has practically
declared war. He has called on Virginia to furnish troops to fight
a sister State. My State has decided that he had no power under the
Constitution to issue such a call. It is, therefore, illegal. The
organic law of the republic makes no provision for raising troops to
fight a sister State."
Blair lifted both hands in a persuasive gesture.
"Let us grant, Colonel Lee, that in law you are right. The States are
sovereign. The Constitution gives the General Government no power to
coerce a State. Our fathers, as a matter of fact, never faced such a
possibility. Grant all that in law. Even so, a mighty, united nation
has grown through the years. It is now a living thing, immutable,
indissoluble. It commands your obedience and mine."
Lee was silent and Mrs. Marshall cried:
"Surely this is true, Robert!"
"My dear Mr. Blair," Lee slowly began, "your claim is the beginning of
the end of law--the beginning of anarchy. If under the law, Virginia
is right, is it not my duty to defend her? Obedience to law is the
cornerstone on which all nations are built if they endure. Reverence for
law is to-day the force driving the South into revolution--"
"A revolution doomed to certain failure," Blair quickly interrupted.
"The border slave states of Maryland, Kentucky and Missouri, under Mr.
Lincoln's conservative leadership, will never secede. Without them the
South must fail. You have served under the flag of the Union for thirty
years. You know the North. You know the South. And you know that such a
revolution based on a division of the Union without these border States
is madness--"
"It is madness, Robert," Mrs. Marshall joined, "utter madness!"
"Right and duty, Mr. Blair, have nothing to do with success or failure,"
Lee responded. "I know the fearful odds against the South. I know the
indomitable will, the energy, the fertile resources, the pride of
opinion of the North, once set in motion. I know that the South has no
money, no army, no organized government, no standing in the Court of
Nations. She will have a white population of barely five millions
against twenty-two millions--and her ports will be closed by our Navy--"
Blair interrupted and leaned close.
"And let me add, that as our leader _you_ will not only command the
greatest army ever assembled under the American flag, backed by a great
Navy--but that your victory will be but the beginning of a career. From
your window you see the White House and the Capitol. The man who leads
the Union armies will succeed Mr. Lincoln as President."
Lee's protest was emphatic.
"I aspire to no office, Mr. Blair. I'm fifty-four years of age. I am on
the hilltop of life. The way leads down a gentle slope, I trust, to a
valley of peace, love and happiness. Ambition does not lure me; I have
lived. I have played my part as well as I know how. I am content. I love
my Country, North and South, East and West. I am a trained soldier--I
know nothing else."
"The highest honor of this Nation, Colonel Lee, is something no man born
under our flag dares to decline. Few men in history have been so well
equipped as you for such an honor, both by birth and culture. You must
also remember that the President of the United States is Commander in
Chief of the Army and Navy. You are proud of your profession. You would
honor it in the highest office of the Republic. You are held in the
highest esteem by every soldier in the army. The President calls you.
The Nation calls you. All eyes are upon you."
Blair studied the effect of his appeal. He saw that Lee was profoundly
moved. Yet his courteous manner gave no hint of the trend of his
emotions. He did not reply for a moment and then spoke with tenderness.
"My dear friend, you must not think that I am deaf to such calls. They
move me to the depths. But no honor can reconcile me to this awful war.
It is madness. It is absolutely unnecessary. But for John Brown's insane
act it could have been avoided. But it has come. Its glory does not
tempt me. I wish peace on earth and good will to all men. I am a
soldier, but a Christian soldier--"
His voice broke.
"I am one of the humblest followers of Jesus Christ. There is but a
single question for me to decide--my duty--"
A horseman dashed under the portico, threw his reins to Sam and entered
without announcement.
"Colonel Lee?" he asked.
"Yes."
He handed Lee a folded paper bearing the great seal of the State.
"A message, sir, from Richmond."
Lee's hand trembled as he broke the seal. He stared at its words as in a
dream.
"You have important news?" Blair asked.
"Most important. I am summoned to Richmond by the Governor in obedience
to a resolution of the Legislature."
Mrs. Marshall advanced on the dusty, young messenger, her eyes aflame
with anger.
"How dare you enter this house unannounced, sir?"
The boy did not answer. He turned away with a smile. She repented her
words immediately. They had sounded undignified, if not positively rude.
But she had been so sure that Blair could not fail. This call from
Richmond, coming in the moment of crisis, drove her to desperation. She
looked at Blair helplessly and he rallied to the attack with renewed
determination.
"A Nation is calling you. The Union your fathers created is calling you,
Colonel Lee!"
Lee's figure stiffened the least bit, though his words were uttered in
the friendliest tones.
"Virginia is also calling me, Mr. Blair. Your own State of Maryland has
not seceded. For that reason you cannot feel this tragedy as I feel it.
Put yourself in my place. I ask you the question, is not the command of
a State that of a mother to a child? We are citizens of the State, not
of the Union. There is no such thing as citizenship in the Union. We
vote only as citizens of a State. We enlist as soldiers by States. I was
sent to West Point as a cadet by the State of Virginia. Even President
Lincoln's proclamation calling for volunteers to coerce a State,
revolutionary as it is, is addressed, not to individual men, but to the
States. He must call on each to furnish her quota of soldiers--"
"Yet the call is to every citizen of the Nation!"
Lee's hand was raised in a gesture of imperious affirmation.
"There is no such thing as citizenship of the Nation! We don't pay taxes
to the Nation. We may yet become a Nation. We are as yet a Union of
Sovereign States. Virginia has refused to furnish the troops called for
by the President and has withdrawn from the Union. She reserved in her
vote to enter, the right to withdraw. I am a Virginian. What is my
duty?"
"To fight for the Union, Robert--always!" Mrs. Marshall answered.
"I love the Union, my dear sister, my heart aches at the thought of its
division--"
He turned sharply to Blair.
"But is not the South to-day in taking her stand for the rights of the
State asserting a principle as vital as the Union itself? All the great
minds of the North have recognized that these rights are fundamental
to our life. Bancroft declares that the State is the guardian of the
security and happiness of the individual. Hamilton declares that, if
the States shall lose their powers, the people will be robbed of their
liberties. George Clinton says that the States are our _only_ security
for the liberties of the people against a centralized tyranny. These
rights once surrendered, and I solemnly warn you, my friend, that your
children and mine may live to see in Washington a centralized power that
will dare to say what you shall eat, what you shall drink, and what you
shall wear!"
Blair laughed incredulously.
"Surely it's a far cry to that, Colonel--"
"I'm not so sure, Mr. Blair. And the cry from Virginia rings through my
heart. I see her in mortal peril. My father was three times Governor
of the Commonwealth. Virginia gave America the immortal words of the
Declaration of Independence. She gave us something greater. She gave us
George Washington, a Southern slaveholder, whose iron will alone carried
our despairing people through ten years of hopeless revolution and won
at last our right to live. Madison wrote the Constitution. John Marshall
of Virginia, as Chief Judge of the Supreme Court, established its power
on the foundations of Justice and Law. Jefferson doubled our area in the
Louisiana Territory. Scott and Taylor extended it to the Pacific Ocean
from Oregon to the Gulf of California. Virginia in the generosity of her
great heart gave the Northwest to the Union and forbade the extension of
slavery within it--"
Blair leaped to make a point.
"Surely these proud recollections, of her gifts to the Union should form
bonds too strong to be broken!"
"So say I, sir! Surely they should place the people of all sections
under obligations too deep to permit the invasion of her sacred soil!
Can I stand by as her loyal son and see this invasion begun? I regret
that Virginia has withdrawn. But the deed is done. Her people through
their Governor and their Legislature call me--command me to come to her
defense. They may be wrong. They may be blinded by passion. They are
still my people, my neighbors, my friends, my children--and I cannot--"
He drew a deep breath and rose to his full height.
"_I will not draw my sword against them!_"
"Glory to God!" the messenger exulted.
Blair spoke with despair.
"This is your final decision?"
"Final."
The messenger slipped close to Lee and spoke hurriedly.
"I came by special train, sir--an engine and coach. They wait you on
a siding just outside of town. We're afraid the line may be cut. The
Northern troops are bivouacing on the Capitol hill. They may stop us.
We've no time to lose. I hope you can come at once."
The messenger walked quickly through the door and seized his horse's
reins.
Lee turned to Blair.
"Troops are on the Capitol Hill?"
"A regiment of Pennsylvanians has just arrived, I believe."
Sam had edged through the door and stood smiling at his old master. The
Colonel had not seen him to this moment.
"You here, Sam?" he said with feeling.
"Yassah. I come home ter stan' by you, Marse Robert."
"Saddle my horse, you can go with me!"
"Yassah. Thankee, sah!"
"Bring Sid to fetch our horses back from the train."
"Yassah, glory hallelujah!" Sam shouted as he darted for the stable.
The anxious mother, praying in her room upstairs, heard Sam's shout and
hurried down with Mary. The other children happily were on the Pamunkey
at the home of Custis.
The mother's heart was pounding. There was war in Sam's shout. She felt
its savage thrill. She gripped herself for the ordeal. There should
be no vain regrets, no foolish words. Her soul rose in the glory of
sacrificial love.
"What is it, my dear?" she asked softly.
"I go to Richmond immediately. Northern troops are pouring into
Washington. Send my things to me if you can."
His eyes wandered about the room he loved. He would never see it again.
He felt this in his inmost soul. It would be but the work of an hour
for the troops to sweep across the bridge, sack its rooms and leave its
beautiful lawn a sodden waste.
The wife saw the anguish in his gaze and her words rang with exaltation.
"Then it is God's will. And I shall try to smile. You have reached this
decision in deepest thought and prayer. And I know that you are right!"
Lee took her in his arms and held her in silence. Those who saw, wept.
At last he kissed her tenderly and turned to the others.
His sister walked blindly toward him.
"Oh, Robert, you have broken my heart--"
"I know, Annie, that you'll blame me," he answered, gently.
She slipped her arms about his neck.
"No, I shall not blame you. I understand now. I only grieve--"
Her voice broke. She struggled to control herself.
"How handsome you are in this solemn hour, my glorious,
soldier-brother--" Again her voice failed.
"The pity and horror of it all! My husband and my son will fight
you--and--I--shall--pray--for--their--success--oh--how can God permit
it!--Goodbye, Robert!"
Her arms tightened and his responded. His hand touched her hair and he
said slowly:
"If dark hours come to us, my sister, we are children again roaming the
fields hand in hand. We'll just remember that."
She kissed him tenderly.
"And success or failure, dear Annie," he continued, "shall be in God's
hands--not ours. I go to lead a forlorn hope perhaps. But I must share
the miseries of my people."
He slipped from her arms and silently embraced his daughter, and again
her mother.
"Say goodbye to the other children for me when you see them, dear."
Blair took his extended hand.
"I know what you feel, Colonel Lee," he said solemnly. "I'm only sorry I
could not hold you."
"Thank you, my friend. My people believe, and I believe that we have
rights to defend. And we must do our best--even if we perish."
He strode quickly to the door, and paused. A sudden pain caught his
heart as he crossed its threshold for the last time. He looked back,
lifted his head as in prayer and passed out.
He mounted his horse and rode swiftly through the beautiful spring
morning toward Richmond--and Immortality. The women stood weeping. The
President's messenger watched in sorrow.