_Webster Arrested as a Spy.--A Woman's Devotion and a Patriot's
Heroism.--Webster is Convicted.--The Execution.--A Martyr's Grave._
After the departure of Lewis and Scully from Webster's room, where they
were so closely followed by the Confederate detective and Chase Morton,
my trusty operative heard nothing of them for some time. Fearing to make
inquiries concerning them, lest he should compromise them still further,
as well as bring himself under the suspicion of the rebel authorities,
he maintained a strict silence with regard to the movements of his
companions. Several days of anxious suspense followed, which, to one in
Webster's critical condition, were fraught with agonizing doubts and
heartfelt fears for the ultimate safety of himself and his friends.
Resolving, however, to utter no word which would compromise them, he
bore the solicitude with unmurmuring firmness. Only to the heroic woman,
who so faithfully nursed him, did he unburden his mind of the weight of
care which oppressed him, and her words of womanly friendship and
encouragement were the only influences which supported him through the
trying ordeal.
One day, Mrs. Lawton came into his room--as was her custom--but this
time there was a gravity about her manner, which, to Webster's quick
perceptions, boded no good. Finding him receiving some friendly
visitors, the lady withdrew, and repressing his impatience as well as he
was able to do, Webster dispatched his friends as quickly as politeness,
and a due consideration for their kindly regard, would permit. When they
had disappeared, Mrs. Lawton again entered the room.
"You have news for me," said Webster, impatiently; "what is it?"
"Be calm, my dear friend," said the devoted little woman; "what I have
to tell, calls for the utmost calmness."
"Tell me what it is," said Webster; "I will be as calm as you could
wish, but do not, I pray you, keep me in suspense."
"Well," replied Mrs. Lawton, "I learned this morning that Lewis and
Scully have been arrested and taken to Henrico Jail."
"When did this occur?" asked the invalid, a great weight pressing upon
his heart.
"The very day they were here last," answered the woman.
"Then all is lost," exclaimed the sick man. "I feared as much; and now
the time has come I will meet it manfully; however," he continued, "it
will be only a short time before I will share the same fate."
"Why do you think so?" anxiously inquired Mrs. Lawton. "Surely they
cannot connect you with these men."
"I do not know why I think so, but I am as confident that I will be
brought into this matter as though the officers were already here to
arrest me."
While he yet spoke, there came a knock at the chamber door, which, on
being opened, revealed the form of Captain McCubbin.
As he entered the room he gazed furtively around, and his salutation to
Webster was very different from the cordiality which had marked his
previous visits.
"Good morning, Webster," said he, as he took the offered chair, and for
the first time since they had known each other neglecting to shake the
invalid by the hand. "This is bad news about Lewis and Scully, isn't
it?"
"What is it?" inquired Webster, apparently receiving the information for
the first time.
"They have been arrested as spies, are confined in prison, and General
Winder wants that letter which they brought to you from the North."
There was something so cold and imperious in the officer's tones, which
confirmed Webster's fears for his own safety; but without evincing the
slightest alarm, he cheerfully made reply:
"I am sorry to hear this news, and trust that they will be able to
exonerate themselves from the charge. Anything, however, that General
Winder wants from me will be cheerfully given. Mrs. Lawton, will you get
the letter, and hand it to Captain McCubbin."
There was no tremor of the voice, and the watchful Confederate looked in
vain for any evidence of fear in the face of the man, who, stricken by
disease as he was, still showed the bravery of a lion, and gazed
unflinchingly at him. Though the hand of fate was upon him, Webster
never lost his heroic courage, and bore the scrutiny of the officer
without the quiver of a muscle.
Captain McCubbin received the letter, and almost immediately withdrew.
As he closed the door behind him, Webster turned to his faithful
companion, and, in a low, solemn voice, said: "That letter has sealed my
fate!"
From this point, Webster's physical condition seemed to improve, and
although depressed with fears for the fate of his companions, he
gradually became stronger, and was at length able to leave his bed and
move about his room.
The visits of his numerous friends had now almost ceased. From General
Winder's officers, with whom he had previously been so intimate, he
heard nothing, nor did they make inquiries about his health, as had been
their custom. Of the many friends in private life, who had surrounded
him, only two remained. These were Mr. Pierce and Mr. Campbell, with
whom Webster had traveled for some time, and his family. This dropping
away of old friends, and the breaking up of old associations, was
significant to Webster of impending danger. It must be that he, too, was
suspected, and that the favor of the rebel authorities had been
withdrawn.
Day by day, during his convalescence, did the brave little woman who had
nursed him back to life, endeavor to encourage him to a hopeful view of
his situation, and to impress him with her own sanguine trust for a
favorable outcome from this present dilemma. Webster listened to the
bright promises of his devoted companion, but he was too profoundly
aware of the danger that threatened him to permit himself to hope that
the result to him would be a beneficial one.
After he was able to leave his bed, he accepted the pressing invitation
of Mr. Campbell, and was removed to the residence of that gentleman,
where he would be more quiet, and where he could receive that care and
attention which could not be afforded him in a hotel. The kindness of
Mr. Campbell and his family was heartfelt and unceasing. They did
everything in their power to make him comfortable, and their courtesy to
Mrs. Lawton was as marked and genuine, as was their regard and care for
Timothy Webster.
Webster had been domiciled at the house of Mr. Campbell but two days,
when one of Winder's men came to know if Webster was sufficiently
recovered to go out, as his presence was imperatively demanded at the
court room, as a witness in the trial of John Scully. The officer
further stated that the evidence of Webster had been solicited by Scully
himself. Finding him unable still to leave the house, the officer stated
that arrangements would be made by which his testimony could be taken in
his room. On the second day after the appearance of the officer, the
court-martial adjourned to Campbell's house, and Scully accompanied
them. Seating themselves around the bedside of the invalid, the court
was formally opened, and Webster was requested to state what he knew of
the antecedents of the accused.
Though very weak, and speaking with considerable difficulty, Webster
made his statement. He said that he had known John Scully from April,
1861, to the time of his arrest. That the prisoner was in Baltimore when
he first met him, and was always in the company of known secessionists,
and was considered by them to be a good friend to the South. So far as
he had any knowledge of the accused he was what he assumed to be, and
that his appearance in Richmond was a surprise to him. He was not known
to be in the employ of the government, and Webster had never met him
under any circumstances which would indicate that fact.
This was all that he could say, and although closely questioned by the
president of the court, and the attorneys present, he insisted that his
knowledge of John Scully was confined to what he had already stated.
Finding it impossible to obtain any further information upon this
subject from the sick man, the court, in a body, left the room, and
departed from the house.
Mrs. Lawton, who had been compelled to retire on the entrance of the
Confederate authorities, and who had been in a wild state of excitement
and apprehension during their visit, instantly repaired to Webster's
room. When she entered the chamber, she found that the brave man, after
the exciting experiences through which he had been compelled to pass,
had fainted. His strength of will, which had supported him through the
investigation, had given way, and he lay, limp and inanimate, upon the
bed.
Several days of anxiety and solicitude now passed. Unable to learn any
tidings of his unfortunate comrades, Webster tortured himself with all
manner of vague fears and doubts as to their probable fate, all of which
had their effect in retarding his recovery, and keeping him confined to
his room.
At last, after days of weary and anxious waiting, the newspapers were
brought in one morning, and the information of the conviction of Lewis
and Scully was duly chronicled. The same paper also announced the day
upon which their death was so speedily to follow. This filled the cup of
Webster's misery to overflowing, and, sinking upon a chair, he wept
like a child. Refusing to be comforted, although Mrs. Lawton exerted
herself to the utmost, Webster paced the room, half frantic with his
grief, at the horrible fate which had overtaken his friends.
Slowly the day passed, and when the shadows of evening were falling
Webster was at last induced to lie down, and attempt to snatch a few
hours sleep. He was soon slumbering quietly, although ever and anon he
would start nervously and utter an inarticulate moan, as though his mind
was still troubled with the sad events of the day. While he lay thus,
attended by Mrs. Lawton, Mr. Campbell suddenly entered the room, with a
look of fear upon his face, which filled Mrs. Lawton with alarm.
"What is the matter?" she hurriedly ejaculated.
"One of Winder's men is below, and I fear his presence indicates
misfortune for Webster," was the reply.
"Who is it?"
"Cashmeyer," answered Mr. Campbell. "He inquired for Webster, and says
he must see him at once."
Webster, disturbed by this conversation, was awake in an instant and
inquired what was wanted.
"Cashmeyer has called, and wishes to see you," said Mr. Campbell.
"Let him come up at once," replied Webster, in the hope that he might
bring some tidings of Lewis and Scully.
Mr. Campbell departed, and in a few moments returned with the
Confederate officer. Cashmeyer's salutation was cold and formal, and
without any preliminary he addressed Webster.
"I have a painful duty to perform, Mr. Webster. I am directed by General
Winder to arrest you, and convey you at once to Castle Godwin."
As he spoke, two soldiers appeared at the doorway.
"You cannot wish to take him away in this condition, and at this hour of
the night," said Mrs. Lawton. "Such an action would be his death, and
would be the worst of inhumanity."
Webster stood silent and unmoved. He did not utter a word, but gazed
fixedly at the officer, whose visits heretofore had been those of
sympathy and condolence.
"I cannot help it," said Cashmeyer, "my orders are to take him dead, or
alive, and those orders I must obey."
"Then," said Mrs. Lawton, "I will go too. He needs care and attention,
without it he will die, and no one can nurse him so well as I."
Cashmeyer gazed at the brave little woman for a moment, and a shade of
pity came over his face.
"I am sorry to inform you, that my orders are to arrest you also, and to
search your trunks."
"This is infamous," exclaimed Webster; "what can Winder mean by
arresting this woman, and what am I charged with that renders your
orders necessary?"
"Webster," answered Cashmeyer, "as God is my witness, I do not know; I
only know what my orders are, and that I must obey them."
Without further parley, Webster and Mrs. Lawton prepared to accompany
their guards, and Cashmeyer, demanding their keys, commenced a search of
their trunks, which resulted in his finding nothing that would criminate
his prisoners.
A carriage was procured, and Webster was assisted into it, while Mrs.
Lawton, under the escort of Cashmeyer was compelled to walk. It was
quite late when they arrived at the prison, and as Price Lewis was
ascending to his cell, Webster and his faithful female companion entered
the gloomy portals of the jail.
General Winder was present when they arrived, and after a hurried
examination Webster was remanded to a room, in which a number of Union
prisoners were already confined, and the atmosphere of which was reeking
with filth and disease.
As he entered the room, pale and emaciated, and scarcely able to walk,
the prisoners gathered around, in silent pity for his forlorn condition.
"My God!" exclaimed one of their number, "they will send the dead here
next."
Mrs. Lawton was conducted before the General, but she stoutly declined
to answer a single question that was propounded to her. This so enraged
the valiant officer that he ordered her to be taken away at once. She
was then conducted to a room in which another lady was confined, and
left for the night.
As midnight tolled its solemn hour over the city, and the tramp of armed
men resounded through the streets, the noises within the prison died
away. An awful and impressive silence brooded over the place. The dim
light in the corridor shone faintly upon four miserable human beings,
who tossed restlessly upon sleepless couches through the long, weary
watches of the night.
Who can tell the thoughts that thronged through their brains, as the
slow moving hours advanced toward the dawn? The brave woman who had been
cruelly deprived of her privilege to administer to the needs of her
suffering friend. The heroic Webster, wasted by disease, weakened by his
long and painful illness, but still brave and defiant. Price Lewis and
John Scully, tortured with the thoughts of their impending fate, and
harassed with reflections of a more agonizing nature, which we may not
analyse.
The trial of Webster was ordered for an early day. With a haste that was
inhuman, the Provost-Marshal made his preparations for the farce of an
investigation. It seemed as though he was fearful that his victim would
die, ere he could wreak his vengeance upon him. The court was convened,
and, owing to Webster's weakened condition, their sessions were held in
the jail. For three long, weary weeks did the investigation drag its
slow length along, although it was apparent that those who tried him had
already decided upon his fate. Numerous witnesses were examined, and
testimony was admitted which would have been excluded by any righteous
tribunal whose ideas of justice were not obscured by an insane desire
for revenge.
Price Lewis and John Scully were compelled to give their evidence; and
although they attempted to do their utmost to lessen the effect of their
testimony, it bore heavily against the poor prisoner, who sat pale and
emaciated before them, and whose heart never failed him through the long
and tedious ordeal. What Webster's feelings must have been during this
harrowing experience is unknown to any one. What thoughts were rushing
through his brain, as the damaging statements fell from the lips of his
late associates, were never revealed by him. No murmurs escaped his
lips, no words of censure or blame against the men whose evidence cost
him his life, were ever uttered. A heroic calmness, born of the very
despair which oppressed him from the first, was manifest throughout the
long, weary investigation. Indeed so manfully had he borne himself, so
completely had he controlled his feelings, that his physical health
perceptibly improved, so much so that the tribunal removed their
sittings to the court-house, and Webster was able to be in daily
attendance.
Webster had secured able counsel for his defence, and they did all that
was possible for man to do. Although they were rebels, their efforts in
behalf of the accused spy were such, that if pleadings could have
availed him aught, his fate would have been averted.
It was not to be, however; the trial came to an end at last. A verdict
of guilty followed quickly upon the heels of the partial and
antagonistic charge of the judge, and Timothy Webster was convicted of
being a spy in the employ of the Federal authorities.
Not even then did the brave spirit break down. Firm and heroic he
received the fatal verdict, and the satisfaction of his enemies was
robbed of its value by the unflinching deportment of their victim.
After the trial, he was remanded to a cell, and closely watched. But a
little time elapsed, and then came the warrant for his execution. An
officer appeared in the cell, the paper was produced, and the faithful,
brave, true-hearted man was condemned to be hung on the twenty-ninth day
of April, but ten days after the approval of his sentence.
[Illustration: _The death warrant._ P. 542.]
* * * * *
The Union army was before Yorktown. McClellan had already sustained two
serious disappointments, and both of them at the hands of the government
at Washington. In the first place, on his arrival at Fort Monroe, he had
ascertained that the promised assistance of the navy could not be relied
upon in the least, and that their efficient co-operation with him would
be an utter impossibility. This interference with his plans might have
been overcome, although the loss of the naval support was a serious
misfortune to him; but a more surprising and disheartening act of the
authorities was yet in store for him. A few days later, he was
thunderstruck at the unexpected information that General McDowell's
entire corps, upon whose assistance he had confidently relied, was
detached from his command, and had been ordered to remain in front of
Washington, for the protection of the capital, which was erroneously
believed to be in imminent danger of capture by the rebels. These events
rendered a scientific siege of Yorktown a necessity; and while engaged
in this laborious work, I was in constant consultation with the
commanding General. Numerous scouts had been sent out through the rebel
country, and the secret service department was taxed to its utmost.
George H. Bangs was busily engaged in examining the rebel deserters and
prisoners, Southern refugees and contrabands, who were either captured
or came willingly into camp, and in preparing daily reports of our
movements, which were required to be made to the General in command. I
had accompanied McClellan upon this campaign, and gave my untiring
personal supervision to the management of the large corps of men and
women, white and black, then engaged in obtaining information.
During all this time, not a word had been received of my missing
operatives. Tortured by the uncertainty of their fate, I passed many an
anxious hour. At length all doubts were set at rest, and a dreadful
certainty manifested itself to my mind. A newspaper, published in
Richmond, was received by me, and in hastily perusing its contents, with
a view of acquiring such military information as it contained, my eye
alighted upon a small paragraph, which filled me with dread and sorrow.
This paragraph was the simple announcement that Price Lewis and John
Scully had been arrested as spies in the rebel capital, and had been
sentenced to be hung on the 6th day of April.
I cannot detail the effect which this announcement produced upon me. For
a moment I sat almost stupefied, and unable to move. My blood seemed to
freeze in my veins--my heart stood still--I was speechless. By degrees I
was able to exercise a strong command over myself. I then sought my
immediate associates, and communicated the fatal news to them. Their
consternation and grief were equal to my own. Every man seemed to be
impressed with the solemnity of the fate of their comrades. What was to
be done? How to intercede in their behalf? I rushed to the tent of
General McClellan, and relating the news to him, besought his aid in
this direful extremity. His sympathy and sorrow were as acute as though
the men had been joined to him by ties of blood. Anxiously we discussed
the situation, in the vain attempt to seek some mode of obtaining their
release, and all without definite or satisfactory conclusion.
All that night I paced the camp, unable to sleep--unable almost to think
intelligently; and when morning dawned I was as far from devising any
practical plan of relief as when I first received the information.
I telegraphed to Captain Milward, Harbor-Master at Fortress Monroe, and
in charge of the flag-of-truce boat for exchanging prisoners, asking him
to endeavor to ascertain from the Richmond papers, or from any other
source, anything definite as to the fate of my unfortunate operatives.
Several messages were received from that officer, containing various
statements of the case, and finally came the crushing intelligence that
Lewis and Scully had been respited, after having given information which
implicated Timothy Webster, whom the rebels now regarded as the chief
spy of the three.
This was the crowning burden of all, and I was almost prostrated by the
blow. Hurried consultations were held, every conceivable plan was
suggested and discussed, which would avail in the slightest degree to
avert so terrible a fate from the faithful patriot who now was in such
deadly danger.
I suggested that General McClellan should send, by flag-of-truce boat,
such a demand as would, if possible, save their lives; but to this the
General demurred, fearing, and justly too, that such a course might be
productive of more injury than good--that it would be a tacit
acknowledgment of their real character as spies, and they would be hung
without further delay.
It was at last decided that I should go to Washington, accompanied by
Colonel Key, an eminent patriot, and an efficient member of General
McClellan's staff. We were to confer with the President and the members
of the Cabinet, lay the matter before them, and petition for the
official interposition of the government in their behalf.
With Colonel Key, I started for Washington, about the middle of April.
The interest of that officer was scarcely second to my own, and he was
fully determined to exert every energy of his manly, sympathetic nature
in the work of saving their lives, if possible.
The journey to Washington was quickly made. Mr. Lincoln was readily
seen, and he, too, filled with sympathy for the unfortunate men,
promised to call a special session of the Cabinet to consider the case,
that evening.
In the meantime, Colonel Key and I occupied ourselves in visiting the
various heads of the departments, in order to prepare them, before
evening arrived, for energetic and speedy action. We felt that no time
was to be lost; if, indeed, it was not already too late to avert their
dreadful doom.
Secretary Stanton, whom, among others, we saw, expressed in strong terms
his willingness to assist Webster to the extent of the resources of the
government, but he was but little disposed to assist the others, who, he
alleged, had "betrayed their companion to save their own lives."
In the evening the Cabinet was convened, and, after a full discussion of
the matter, it was decided that the only thing that could be done, was
to authorize the Secretary of War to communicate with the rebel
authorities upon the subject. He was directed to authorize General Wool
to send by flag-of-truce boat, or by telegraph, a message to Jefferson
Davis, representing that the course pursued by the Federal government
toward rebel spies had heretofore been lenient and forbearing; that in
many cases such persons had been released after a short confinement, and
that in no instance had any one so charged been tried for his life, or
sentenced to death. The message concluded with the decided intimation
that if the rebel government proceeded to carry their sentence of death
into execution, the Federal government would initiate a system of
retaliation which would amply revenge the death of the men now held.
Receiving a copy of these instructions, Colonel Key and myself, feeling
that we had exhausted the power of the government in this matter,
returned at once to Fortress Monroe. We arrived there on the 23d day of
April. General Wool was immediately found, and without a moment's delay,
he caused the required dispatches to be forwarded, by way of Norfolk,
through General Huger, who was then in command of that place, with the
urgent request that he would instantly transmit it by telegraph to the
Richmond authorities.
This, I learned, was done as had been requested, and I learned further,
that it reached the officers of the rebel government, and received their
consideration in time to have been of avail, had there been one spark of
manly sympathy animating the breasts of those who were the leaders of a
vile conspiracy to destroy the noblest government under the blue canopy
of heaven.
Feeling that all had now been done that was possible to save the lives
of my men, and believing that the hate and malignity of the rebel
officers would not carry them to such a murderous extent as this, I
awaited the result of our mission with painful solicitude.
* * * * *
After the day of execution had been fixed, Mrs. Lawton was permitted to
visit Webster in the room to which he had been assigned. During all the
time that the trial had been in progress, they had never been allowed to
communicate with each other, and the noble little woman had been
compelled to suffer in silence, while Webster was undergoing the painful
experiences of the investigation, which had resulted in his being
condemned to be hung as a spy.
The meeting between Webster and Mrs. Lawton was a most affecting one.
Tears filled the eyes of the faithful woman, as she gazed at the pale
and emaciated form of the heroic patriot. Their hands were clasped in a
warm pressure, and her words of heartfelt sympathy and grief were choked
by the sobs which shook her frame. Even in the excess of his despair,
Webster's fortitude never for a moment forsook him. He bore the burdens
which had been imposed upon him with a courage and firmness that
impressed all who witnessed it.
Under Mrs. Lawton's direction, the room in which he was confined was
soon made cheerful and clean; with her own hands she prepared for him
such delicacies as he needed most, and her words of comfort were of
great effect in soothing his mind, and in preparing him for the dreadful
fate which he was called upon to meet.
Nor did Mrs. Lawton stop here. She sought an interview with Jefferson
Davis, but, finding him engaged with General Lee, she obtained the
privilege of visiting the wife of the Confederate president. With Mrs.
Davis she pleaded long and earnestly in behalf of the condemned man.
Besought her by every holy tie of her own life to intercede for the
pardon of the poor invalid, whose life hung by so slender a thread.
All in vain, however. While fully sympathizing with the fate of the
unfortunate man, Mrs. Davis declined to interfere in matters of state,
and Mrs. Lawton left the house utterly hopeless of being able to avert
the dreadful fate which impended over Webster.
The hours flew swiftly by, and the day of execution drew near, and still
a ray of hope glistened through the gloom which surrounded him. If
McClellan only succeeded in capturing Richmond all would be well. But as
the days passed, and this result seemed further from accomplishment than
ever, even that flickering ember of hope died out, and he prepared to
meet his fate like a man.
One thing, however, impressed the doomed man more than anything
else--the thought of being hung. Any other mode of punishment would have
been accepted with joy, but to be hanged like a murderer, was a disgrace
which he could not bear to think about. On the day before his execution,
he requested a visit from General Winder, and that officer, evidently
expecting a revelation from the lips of his victim, soon made his
appearance at the prison.
As he entered the cell where Webster was reclining upon his couch, he
roughly accosted him:
"Webster you have sent for me; what is it that you desire?"
"General Winder," replied Webster, "I have sent for you to make an
appeal to your manhood; my fate is sealed. I know that too well--I am to
die, and I wish to die like a man. I know there is no hope for mercy,
but, sir, I beseech you to permit me to be shot, not be hanged like a
common felon,--anything but that."
"I am afraid that cannot be done," said Winder, coldly.
"It is not much to ask," pleaded Webster; "I am to die, and am prepared,
but, sir, for God's sake let me not die like this; change but the manner
of my death, and no murmur shall escape my lips."
"I cannot alter the sentence that has been ordered."
Mrs. Lawton, who was present, and unable further to restrain herself,
exclaimed:
"General, as a woman I appeal to you--you have the power, and can
exercise it. Do not, I pray you, condemn this brave man to the odium of
a felon's death. Think of his family, and his suffering. Let the
manliness of your own heart plead for him. It is not much that he asks.
He does not sue for pardon. He seeks not to escape your judgment, harsh
and cruel as it is. He only prays to be allowed to die like a brave man
in the service of his country. You certainly can lose nothing by
granting this request, therefore, in the name of justice and humanity,
let him be shot instead of the dreadful death you have ordained for
him."
While she was speaking, the hard lines about the rebel's mouth grew
still more harsh and rigid. He did not attempt to interrupt her, but
when she had finished, he turned coolly upon his heel, and, as he
reached the door he said:
"His request and yours must be denied. He hangs to-morrow."
"Then," ejaculated the undaunted woman, "he will die like a man, and his
death will be upon your head,--a living curse until your own dark hour
shall come!"
Without deigning to notice them further, he passed out of the cell,
violently closing the door behind him.
The shadows of the night came down over the prison. The last night on
earth to a brave man who had met death in a hundred forms ere this. How
many times the gaunt, repulsive form of the fatal scaffold, appeared to
the vision of the condemned man, as he sat firm and rigid in his dark
cell, we may not know. How many times he lived over again the bright
scenes of his past life! The happy, careless days of childhood, when the
fond eyes of a loving mother beamed upon him in his sportive gambols.
His school days, the lessons conned by the evening lamp in the dear old
home of long ago. The merry days of youth, which glided away amid scenes
of mirth and jollity. The first dawnings of the passion of his life,
when a soft hand nestled lovingly in his, and earnest eyes, full of love
and trust, seemed to speak a world of affection. Then the stirring
scenes of active life, he a man among men battling with the world,
performing his daily duties, mingling honorably with his fellows, and
upheld by a pride of honor and self-respect. His sacrifices for his
country in the dark hour of her peril. The lonely marches, the weary
burdens, the unflinching steadfastness of his fealty to his government.
The long nights of storm and danger, the varying episodes of pleasure
and of pain, conflicts with enemies, and happy hours with friendly
companions--all these thoughts came upon him with a distinctness which
brought their actual presence near. Now he was listening to the sweet
lullaby of his mother's voice, now he stood in the hall of the "Sons of
Liberty," in the midst of affrighted conspirators and blue-coated
soldiers--anon he strayed by a purling stream, with a loved one upon his
arm--and again he breasted the dashing waters and the deluging storm on
the bay, as he rescued the women and children from the stranded boat. So
vivid were these pictures of his mind that he lived again a hundred
scenes of his past life, partook of a hundred pleasures, shared in a
hundred sorrows. Suddenly in the midst of some thrilling vision of
by-gone days, the flickering of his lamp or the tread of the sentry
outside would recall him from a delightful reverie to the dark and
dreadful present. Then gloomy and despondent thoughts would come to him.
He would picture minutely the scenes of the morrow, the rude platform,
the dangling noose, the armed soldiers, the hideous black cap, the
springing of the gallows trap.
Then, unable to bear the agony of his thoughts, he would start to his
feet, press his hands to his ears, as if to drown the fearful sounds,
and pace rapidly the narrow cell. Mrs. Lawton never left him; ever alert
to his needs, ever ready with sustaining words, although her own brave,
tender heart was breaking, she did her utmost to strengthen and sustain
him. Gradually he became calmer. The slow moving hours passed on, and he
resolutely performed the last duties that devolved upon him. Messages
were confided to his unwavering nurse for the dear friends at home;
expressions of love and regard for his kindred, and unswerving
breathings of devotion to his country.
"Tell Major Allen that I met my fate like a man. Thank him for his many
acts of kindness to me. I have done my duty, and I can meet death with a
brave heart and a clear conscience."
The first faint streaks of the early dawn came in through the grated
window; the sun was rising in the heavens, brightly and gloriously
lighting up a day that should have been shrouded in gloom. Its beams
illumined the little chamber, where Webster lay calm and wakeful, his
hands clasped by the woman who had so nobly shared his captivity.
A silence had fallen upon them. Each was busy with thoughts which lips
could not utter, and the death-like stillness was undisturbed save by
the tramp of the guards in the corridor.
Suddenly there came the sound of hurried footsteps. They paused before
the door. The heavy bolts were shot back, and in the doorway stood Cap.
Alexander, the officer in charge.
The little clock that ticked upon the wall noted a quarter past five
o'clock.
"Come, Webster, it is time to go."
There was no sympathy in the rough voice which uttered these words.
"To go where?" inquired Webster, starting up in surprise.
"To the fair grounds," was the laconic reply.
"Surely not at this hour," pleaded the condemned man; "the earliest
moment named in my death-warrant is six o'clock, and you certainly will
not require me to go before that."
"It is the order of General Winder, and I must obey," answered
Alexander. "You must prepare yourself at once."
Without another word Webster arose from his bed, and began his
preparations. Not a tremor was apparent, and his hand was as steady and
firm as iron. When he had fully arranged his toilet, he turned to Mrs.
Lawton, and taking both her hands in his he murmured:
"Good-bye, dear friend; we shall never meet again on earth. God bless
you, and your kindness to me. I will be brave, and die like a man.
Farewell, forever!" then turning to Captain Alexander, who stood unmoved
near the door, he said:
"I am ready!"
As they went out through the door, a piercing shriek rent the air, and
Mrs. Lawton fell prostrate to the floor.
Arriving at the entrance to the prison, they found a company of cavalry
drawn up before them, and a carriage, procured by Mrs. Lawton, awaiting
their appearance. Webster crossed the pavement with unfaltering step and
entered the vehicle, the order to march was given, and the procession
started for the scene of execution.
At Camp Lee, the scene was one of bustle and excitement. Soldiers were
moving about in companies, and in small detachments. Eager spectators
were there, curious to watch the proceedings, and the streets leading to
the grounds were lined with people whose prevailing emotion seemed to be
that of idle curiosity.
On arriving at the camp, Webster was conducted into a small room, on the
ground floor of one of the buildings, and was left alone with the
clergyman who had been requested to accompany him.
Thus he remained for several hours. At ten minutes past eleven, the
carriage was drawn up before the door, and Webster appeared leaning upon
the arm of the jailer, and attended by his spiritual adviser.
The doomed man wore a look of calm composure. His face was pale, and the
feebleness of his condition was manifest in his tottering walk; but his
eye was clear and steady and not a muscle of his face betrayed his
emotion.
They reached the scaffold, which was erected on the north side of the
parade ground. Slowly and painfully he ascended to the platform. Amid a
breathless silence, he stood for a moment and gazed about him. The
bright blue sky overhead, the muskets of the soldiers glistening in the
rays of the sun, the white, eager faces which surrounded him. His last
look on earth. Though much exhausted by his long illness, he stood alone
and firmly whilst his arms were tied behind him and his feet were bound
together.
The black cap was placed over his head, and then followed a moment of
solemn stillness. The entire assembly seemingly ceased to breathe. The
signal was given, the trap was sprung, and, with a dreadful, sickening
thud, Webster fell from the gibbet to the ground beneath. The hang-man's
knot had slipped, and the man, bound hand and foot, lay in a confused
heap, limp and motionless, before the gathered throng. He was lifted up
and carried to the scaffold.
"I suffer a double death," came from the lips of the dying man as he was
again placed upon the readjusted trap. The rope was again placed around
his neck, this time so tight as to be excruciatingly painful.
"You will choke me to death this time," came in gurgling tones from
within the enveloping hood.
In a second the trap was again sprung, and the brave patriot was
swinging in the air, between heaven and earth.
Rebel vengeance was at last satisfied, the appetite for human blood was
sated.
Treason had done its worst, and the loyal spy was dead.
Early in the afternoon, Captain Alexander returned to the prison, and
informed Mrs. Lawton that all was over. He found her deathly pale, but
now firm, and giving no other outward sign of the agony of the past few
hours.
"May I see him before he is taken away?" she asked.
"There is no objection to that."
Accompanying the officer, she went to the room in which the body lay,
incased in a metallic coffin which Mrs. Lawton had procured. His face
was not discolored in the least, and the features indicated the same
Roman firmness which he exhibited when he left the prison. He died as he
had lived--a brave man.
Several rebel officers stood around the coffin. Turning suddenly upon
them, and facing Captain Alexander, Mrs. Lawton, in a burst of passion,
exclaimed:
"Murderers! this is your work. If there is vengeance or retribution in
this world, you will feel it before you die!"
As if stung to the quick by this accusation, Captain Alexander stepped
up to the coffin, and laying his hand upon Webster's cold, white
forehead, said:
"As sure as there is a God in Heaven, I am innocent of this deed. I did
nothing to bring this about, and simply obeyed my orders in removing him
from the prison to the place of execution."
Application was made to General Winder for the privilege of sending
Webster's body to the North, where it might be buried by his friends;
but this the rebel officer peremptorily refused. A petition was then
made that it be allowed to be placed in the vault in Richmond, with no
better success. Not content with heaping ignominy upon him while living,
the fiend was determined that even in death the patriot should be the
subject of odium and contempt.
In the dead hour of the night, he ordered the remains to be carried
away, and buried in an obscure corner of the pauper's burying-ground.
Farewell, brave spirit! I knew thee well. Brave, tender and true; thou
hast suffered in a glorious cause, and died a martyr's death. Thy memory
will long be green in the hearts of thy friends. When treason is
execrated, and rebellion is scorned and despised, the tears of weeping
friends will bedew the sod which rests above the martyred spy of the
Rebellion--Timothy Webster.
After the war was over, and peace once more reigned throughout the land,
I procured his body, and it now lies in the soil of a loyal state--the
shrine of the patriot--the resting-place of a hero.
But little more remains to be told. After weary months of captivity,
Mrs. Lawton, Price Lewis and John Scully, were sent to the North, where
their stories were told, and from whose lips I learned the particulars I
have narrated.