One of the city papers contained Monday a word of
exhortation to certain females of Southern residence (and
perhaps birth) but of decidedly Northern and Abolition
proclivities. The creatures thus alluded to were not
named.... If such people do not wish to be exposed and dealt
with as alien enemies to the country, they would do well to
cut stick while they can do so with safety to their
worthless carcasses.
On the margin in faded ink there is written: "These ladies were my
mother and myself. God knows it was but little we could do."
Spring came, and McClellan, at the head of the Army of the Potomac,
moved up the peninsula. "On to Richmond!" was the cry, as the troops
swept by. It is said that the houses in the city shook with the
cannonading, and from their roofs the people could see the bursting of
shells. "Crazy Bet," watching the battle with alternate hope and fear,
was filled with fierce exultation, and hastily prepared a room in the
house on the hill with new matting and fresh curtains for the use of
General McClellan. But the Federal forces were repulsed by the
Confederate troops under General Lee and "drew away over the hills."
General McClellan had failed in his attempt to take Richmond, and
within that room freshly prepared for his use bitter disappointment
and dead hope were locked.
There was great rejoicing in Richmond in this repulse of the Federal
army, and even those old friends who were now enemies of Elizabeth Van
Lew, could afford to throw her a smile or a kind word in the flush of
their triumph. She responded pleasantly, for she was a big enough
woman to understand a viewpoint which differed from her own.
Meanwhile, she worked on tirelessly through the long days and nights
of an unusually hot summer, meeting in secret conferences with
Richmond's handful of Unionists, to plot and scheme for the aid of the
Federal authorities. "The Van Lew mansion was the fifth in a chain of
Union Secret Service relaying stations, whose beginning was in the
headquarters tent of the Federal army. Of this chain of stations the
Van Lew farm, lying a short distance outside of the city, was one. It
was seldom difficult for Betty Van Lew to get passes for her servants
to make the trip between the farm and the Richmond house, and this was
one of her most valuable methods of transmitting and receiving secret
messages. Fresh eggs were brought in from the farm almost every day to
the house on Church Hill, and no one was allowed to touch them until
the head of the house had counted them, with true war-time economy,
and she always took one out, for her own use in egg-nog, so she said.
In reality that egg was but a shell which contained a tiny scroll of
paper, a message from some Union general to the Federal Spy. An old
negro brought the farm products in to Richmond, and he always stopped
for a friendly chat with his mistress, yes, and took off his
thick-soled shoes that he might deliver into her hands a cipher
despatch which she was generally awaiting eagerly! Much sewing was
done for the Van Lews at that time by a little seamstress, who worked
at both farm and city home, and in carrying dress goods and patterns
back and forth she secreted much valuable information for the Spy, on
whom the Union generals were now depending for the largest part of
their news in regard to Confederate plans and movements of troops."
And she did not disappoint them in the slightest detail.
She must have a disguise in which she could go about the city and its
environs without fear of detection, and she must also gain more
valuable and accurate information from headquarters of the
Confederacy. This she resolved, and then set to work to achieve her
end. At once she wrote to a negro girl, Mary Elizabeth Bowser, who had
been one of the Van Lews' slaves, but who had been freed and sent
North to be educated, inviting her to visit the stately mansion where
she had grown up, and the invitation was eagerly accepted. On her
arrival in Richmond, she was closeted a long time with her one-time
mistress, to whom she owed her liberty, and when the interview ended
the girl's eyes were shining, and she wore an air of fixed resolve
only equaled by that of Betty Van Lew.
A waitress was needed in the White House of the Southern Confederacy.
Three days after Mary Bowser arrived at the Van Lews', she had applied
for the position and become a member of Jefferson Davis's household.
Another link had been forged in the long chain of details by which the
Spy worked her will and gained her ends.
Despite the suspicion and ill-will felt in Richmond for the Van Lews,
more than one Confederate officer and public official continued to
call there throughout the war, to be entertained by them. The fare was
meager in comparison to the old lavish entertaining, but the
conversation was brilliant and diverting, and so cleverly did Betty
lead it that "many a young officer unwittingly revealed much
important information of which he never realized the value, but which
was of great use to 'Crazy Bet' when combined with what she already
knew.
"And when night fell over the city Betty would steal out in her
disguise of a farm-hand, in the buckskin leggins, one-piece skirt and
waist of cotton, and the huge calico sunbonnet, going about her secret
business, a little lonely, unnoticed figure, and in a thousand
unsuspected, simple ways she executed her plans and found out such
things as she needed to know to aid the Federal authorities."
History was in the making in those stirring days of 1862, when, having
failed to take Richmond, General McClellan had returned North by sea,
when the Confederates under General Lee prepared to invade the North,
but were turned back after the great battle of Antietam. Thrilling
days they were to live through, and to the urge and constant demand
for service every man and woman of North and South instantly
responded. But none of the women gave such daring service as did
Elizabeth Van Lew. Known as a dauntless advocate of abolition and of
the Union, suspected of a traitor's disloyalty to the South, but with
that stain on her reputation as a Southerner unproved from the
commencement of the war until its close, her life was in continual
danger. She wrote a year later, "I was an enthusiast who never counted
it dear if I could have served the Union--not that I wished to die."
For four long years she awoke morning after morning to a new day of
suspense and threatening danger, to nights of tension and of horrible
fear. "No soldier but had his days and weeks of absolute safety. For
her there was not one hour; betrayal, friends' blunders, the
carelessness of others; all these she had to dread." All these she
accepted for the sake of a cause which she believed to be right and
just.
As her system of obtaining information in regard to movements of the
Confederates became more perfect, she was connected more closely with
the highest Federal authorities,--so closely connected, in fact, that
flowers which one day grew in her Richmond garden stood next morning
on General Grant's breakfast table.
"One day she received a letter from General Butler, which was to be
delivered to a Confederate officer on General Winder's staff. In the
letter this officer was asked to 'come through the lines and tell what
he knew,' and there were promises of rewards if it should be done
successfully. The Spy sat quietly thinking for some time after
receiving this letter. If it should fall into Confederate hands it
would be the death-warrant of its bearer. Who could be trusted to take
it to the officer for whom it was intended? Coolly Elizabeth Van Lew
arose, went out, and walked straight to the office of General Winder,
took the letter from her bosom, and handed it to the officer for whom
it was intended, watching him closely as he read it.
"In the next room were detectives and armed guards, the whole
machinery of the Confederate capital's secret police. The officer had
but to raise his voice and her game would be up; she would pay the
penalty of her daring with her life. She had been suspicious of the
officer for some weeks, had marked him as a traitor to his cause. Was
she right?
"His face whitened, his lips were set as he read, then, without a
quiver of a muscle, he rose and followed her out of the room; then he
gave way and implored her to be more prudent. If she would never come
there again he would go to her, he said. And so she gained another aid
in her determined purpose of 'striking at the very heart of the
Confederacy.'
"Another day there was a message of vital importance to send to
General Grant, who had asked her to make a report to him of the number
and placing of forces in and about Richmond. The cipher despatch was
ready, but if it were to reach Grant in time there was not an hour to
lose in finding a messenger. At that time no servant of hers could
leave the city, and no Federal agent could enter it. Hoping for an
inspiration, she took her huge market-basket on her arm, the basket
which was so familiar by this time as a part of 'Crazy Bet's' outfit,
and with it swinging at her side, humming a tuneless song, she passed
down the street, smiling aimlessly in return for mocking glances--and
all the while in her hand she held the key to Richmond's defenses!
"As she walked a man passed her and whispered, 'I'm going through
to-night!' then walked on just ahead of her. She gave no sign of
eagerness, but she was thinking: Was he a Federal agent to whom she
could intrust her message, or was he sent out by the police to entrap
her as had often been attempted? The cipher despatch in her hand was
torn into strips, each one rolled into a tiny ball. Should she begin
to drop them, one by one? In perplexity she glanced up into the man's
face. No! Her woman's instinct spoke loud and clear, made her turn
into a side street and hurry home. The next day she saw him marching
past her house for the front with his Confederate regiment, in the
uniform of a junior officer, and knew that once again she had been
saved from death."
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 pass 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-Hell" to the prison yard. The work was carried on
under the direction of Colonel Rose, and his frenzied assistants
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 chores 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 recumbent 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.
[Illustration: 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 bump 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
partition 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
Wilcox 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 oakum, turpentine, and torpedoes. Destroy
everything that can be used by the rebels. Shoot horses and cattle,
destroy the railroads and the canal, 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 assistants, 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 passed 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 passionate
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.
And how fared it with the Federal Spy during those hours of anguish
for all true Southerners? Betty Van Lew, who had been in close touch
with the Union generals, had for some time foreseen the coming climax
of the four years' struggle, and weeks earlier she had sent north to
General Butler for a huge American flag, eighteen feet long by nine
wide, which in some unknown way was successfully carried into Richmond
without detection by the picket guard, and safely secreted in the
hidden chamber under the Van Lew roof.
And now General Lee had surrendered. Virginia was again to be a State
of the Union; came a messenger fleet of foot, cautious of address,
bringing breathless tidings to the Spy: "Your house is to be
burned--the Confederate soldiers say so. What can you do to prevent
it?"
Even as she listened to his excited words, Betty Van Lew's heart was
throbbing with joyful excitement, despite the uproar in the city from
the constant explosion of shells, the sound of the blowing up of
gun-boats in the harbor, and of the powder magazines, which was
shaking the foundations of the city, as red flames leaped across the
black sky. Even then there was in the heart of the Spy a wild
exultation. "Oh, army of my country, how glorious was your welcome!"
she exclaims in her diary.
She heard the news that her home was about to be burned. With head
erect and flashing eyes she went out alone and stood on the
white-pillared portico, a fearless little figure, defying the mob who
were gathering to destroy the old mansion which was so dear to her.
"I know you--and you--and you!" she cried out, calling them each by
name, and pointing at one after another. "General Grant will be in
this city within an hour; if this house is harmed your house shall be
burned by noon!" At the fearless words, one by one they turned,
muttering, and slunk away, and the Van Lew house was neither burned
nor harmed in any way.
The Union troops were coming near now, marching to the center of the
city. As the long, dusty line of men in blue swung into Main Street,
Betty Van Lew ran up to the secret room under the garret roof, drew
out the great flag for which she had sent in anticipation of this day,
and when the Union soldiers marched past the historic old mansion, the
Stars and Stripes were waving proudly over its portico. The
Confederacy was no more!
Despite her bravery, Betty Van Lew's life was now in danger. There was
urgent need of special protection for her. Feeling against the
northern victors was at fever height in poor, desolated, defeated
Richmond, and it is small wonder that one born in their city, who yet
stood openly and fearlessly against all that the Southerners held
sacred, should have been despised, and worse than that. Realizing her
danger, and knowing the priceless service she had rendered the Union
generals in the four long years of the war, Colonel Parke, with a
force of men, was sent to protect the Spy. To the General's utter
amazement they did not find her in the old house. She was found in the
deserted Capitol, ransacking it for documents which she feared might
be destroyed and which would be a loss to the Government.
As "Crazy Bet" and as a Union Spy, Betty Van Lew's long and remarkable
service of her country was ended. The Confederacy was dissolved, and
again the flag of the United States of America could rightfully wave
from every building in the land. At the beginning of the war, when
Betty took on herself the rôle of Federal Secret Service agent, she
was light of heart, alert of body and mind. Now, for four years, she
had born a heavy burden of fear and of crushing responsibility, for
the sake of a cause for which she was willing to sacrifice comfort,
wealth and other things which the average woman counts dear, and her
heart and brain were weary.
Two weeks after the inauguration of Grant as President of the United
States, as a reward for her faithful service, he appointed Betty Van
Lew postmistress of Richmond. Well she knew that her enemies would
declare the appointment a reward for her services against the
Confederacy, and that it would but make her more of an alien in
Richmond than ever she had been before. But she was desperately poor,
so she accepted the position and for eight years filled it
efficiently. When she came in contact with old friends from time to
time in a business way, they were politely cold, and in her diary she
writes:
"I live, as entirely distinct from the citizens as if I were
plague-stricken. Rarely, very rarely, is our door-bell ever rung by
any but a pauper or those desiring my service." She adds: "September,
1875, my Mother was taken from me by death. We had not friends enough
to be pall-bearers."
When Grant had been succeeded by Hayes as President of the United
States, the one-time Spy was obliged to ask for his aid:
"I am hounded down"--she wrote to his private Secretary. "I never,
never was so bitterly persecuted; ask the President to protect me from
this unwarranted, unmerited, and unprecedented persecution."
From her own point of view, and from that of those who fought for the
abolition of slavery and the preservation of the Union, Betty Van
Lew's persecution was indeed "unwarranted and unmerited." But there
was another side to the matter. Elizabeth Van Lew, although the child
of a Northern mother, was also the daughter of John Van Lew, one of
Richmond's foremost citizens. The loyalty of the Southerners to the
Confederacy and to one another, from their viewpoint, was
praiseworthy, and there is every reason why they should have shunned
one of Richmond's daughters, who not only approved the cause of the
hated Yankees, but who aided the Union generals in their determination
to sweep "On to Richmond, to the defeat of the Confederacy."
What to one was loyalty, to the other was treason--what to the Spy was
a point of honor, to her old friends was her open and lasting
disgrace, and never can the two viewpoints be welded into one, despite
the symbol of Union which floats over North and South, making the
United States of America one and "indivisible, now and forever!"
Betty Van Lew remained postmistress of Richmond for eight years, then
she was removed, and there were black years of poverty and loneliness
for her, as she had not laid by a dollar for a day of want, but had
given lavishly to all in need, especially to the negroes. She was not
able to sell her valuable but unproductive real estate, and was
reduced to actual need. "I tell you really and solemnly," she
confesses to her diary, "I have suffered for necessary food. I have
not one cent in the world. I have stood the brunt alone of a
persecution that I believe no other person in the country has
endured.... I honestly think that the Government should see that I was
sustained."
At last she was given a clerkship in the Post-Office Department at
Washington, but after two years this was taken from her, probably for
political reasons, and it was recommended that she be given a
clerkship of a lower grade. This was done, and although she was cut by
the injustice of the act, she clung patiently to her only means of
support. Two weeks later, it is said that a Northern newspaper
contained an editorial which spoke sneeringly of "A Troublesome
Relic," and ended with, "We draw the line at Miss Van Lew." Even
though she had not a penny in the world, she could not bear the sting
of that, and she wrote her resignation, and went back to the great,
lonely house on Church Hill a heart-broken, pitiable woman, who had
given her all for what she believed to be the cause of right and
justice.
But she could not live in the old mansion alone, and without food or
money. In despair she wrote a letter to a friend in the North, a
relative of Col. Paul Revere, whom she had helped when he was a
prisoner in the Libby. She had to borrow a stamp from an old negro to
send the letter, and even worse to her than that was the necessity of
revealing her desperate plight. But she need not have felt as she did.
As soon as the letter reached its destination there was a hurried
indignation meeting of those Boston men who knew what she had done for
the Union, and immediately and gladly they provided an ample annuity
for her, which placed her beyond all need for the remaining years of
her life. This was, of course, a great relief; but even so, it could
not ease the burden of her lonely isolation.
"No one will walk with us on the street," she writes; "no one will go
with us anywhere.... It grows worse and worse as the years roll
on...."
And so the weary months and years went by, and at last, in the old
mansion with its haunting memories, nursed by an aged negress to whom
she had given freedom years before, Elizabeth Van Lew died. Among her
effects there was found on a torn bit of paper this paragraph:
"If I am entitled to the name of 'Spy' because I was in the Secret
Service, I accept it willingly, but it will hereafter have to my mind
a high and honorable significance. For my loyalty to my country, I
have two beautiful names; here I am called 'Traitor,' farther North a
'Spy,' instead of the honored name of Faithful."
And well may she be called "Faithful" by both friend and enemy, for
she gave freely of youth and strength, of wealth and her good name, of
all that human beings hold most sacred, for that which was to her a
consecrated and a just cause.
In the Shockhoe Hill Cemetery of Richmond, there is to be seen a
bronze tablet, erected to the noble woman who worked tirelessly and
without fitting reward for a cause which she believed to be righteous.
The inscription on the tablet reads:
Elizabeth L. Van Lew
1818 1900.
She risked everything that is dear to man--friends,
fortune, comfort, health, life itself;
all for the one absorbing desire of her
heart--that slavery might be abolished and
the Union preserved.
------------