them. But who would not rather face a firing-line of infantry in full
daylight than to venture alone in such a dark and stormy night as was
this upon such a perilous and threatening region as the Pedregal, in
which a misstep in the darkness would surely lead to wounds and perhaps
to death. Its crossing, under such conditions, might well be deemed
impossible, had not Captain Lee succeeded, borne up by his strong sense
of duty, in this daring enterprise.
General Scott, who was very anxious to know the position of the advance
forces, had sent out seven officers about sundown with instructions to
the troops at Contreras, but they had all returned, completely baffled
by the insuperable difficulties of the way. Not a man except Robert E.
Lee had the daring, skill, and persistence to cross this region of
volcanic knife-blades on that night of rain and gloom.
The writer above quoted from says, "History gives him the credit of
having succeeded, but it has always seemed incredible to me when I
recollect the distance amid darkness and storm, and the dangers of the
Pedregal which he must have traversed. Scarcely a step could be taken
without danger of death; but that to him, a true soldier, was the
willing risk of duty in a good cause."
General Scott adds his testimony to this by saying, after mentioning the
failure of the officers sent out by him, "But the gallant and
indefatigable Captain Lee, of the engineers, who has been constantly
with the operating forces, is just in from Shields, Smith, Cadwallader,
etc., to report, and to request that a powerful diversion be made
against the centre of the intrenched camp to-morrow morning."
Scott subsequently gave the following testimony to the same effect:
"Captain Lee, engineers, came to me from the hamlet (Contreras) with a
message from Brigadier-General Smith, about midnight. He, having passed
over the difficult ground by daylight, found it just possible to return
to San Augustin in the dark,--_the greatest feat of physical and moral
courage performed by any individual, in my knowledge, pending the
campaign_."
This praise is certainly not misapplied, when we remember that Lee
passed over miles of the kind of ground above described in a pitch-dark
night, without light or companion, with no guide but the wind as it
drove the pelting rain against his face, or an occasional flash of
lightning, and with the danger of falling into the hands of Valencia or
Santa Anna if he should happen to stray to the right or the left. It is
doubtful if another man in the army would have succeeded in such an
enterprise, if any one had had the courage to attempt it. It took a man
of the caliber which Robert E. Lee afterward proved himself to possess
to perform such a deed of daring.
We may briefly describe Lee's connection with the subsequent events. He
bore an important part in the operations against the Mexicans, guiding
the troops when they set out about three o'clock in the morning on a
tedious march through darkness, rain, and mud; an elevation in the rear
of the enemy's forces being gained about sunrise. An assault was at once
made on the surprised Mexicans, their intrenchments were stormed, and in
seventeen minutes after the charge began they were in full flight and
the American flag was floating proudly above their works.
Thus ended the battle of Contreras. Captain Lee was next sent to
reconnoitre the well fortified stronghold of Coyacan, while another
reconnaissance was made towards Churubusco, one mile distant. After Lee
had completed his task, he was ordered to conduct Pierce's brigade by a
third road, to a point from which an attack could be made on the enemy's
right and rear. Shields was ordered to follow Pierce closely and take
command of the left wing.
The battle soon raged violently along the whole line. Shields, in his
exposed position, was hard pressed and in danger of being crushed by
overwhelming forces. In this alarming situation Captain Lee made his way
to General Scott to report the impending disaster, and led back two
troops of the Second Dragoons and the Rifles to the support of the left
wing. The affair ended in the repulse of the enemy and victory for the
Americans. Soon after a third victory was won at the Molino del Rey.
Scott's army was now rapidly approaching the city of Mexico, the central
point of all these operations, and the engineer officers, Captain Lee,
Lieutenant Beauregard, and others, were kept busy in reconnaissances,
which they performed with daring and success. Then quickly followed the
boldest and most spectacular exploit of the war, the brilliant charge up
the steep heights of Chapultepec, a hill that bristled with walls,
mines, and batteries, and whose summit was crowned with a powerful
fortress, swarming with confident defenders.
Up this hill went the American infantry like so many panthers, bounding
impetuously onward in face of the hot fire from the Mexican works,
scaling crags, clambering up declivities, all with a fiery valor and
intrepidity which nothing could check, until the heights were carried,
the works scaled, and the enemy put to flight. In this charge, one of
the most brilliant in American history, Captain Lee took an active part,
till he was disabled by a severe wound and loss of blood. General Scott
again speaks of his service here in complimentary words, saying that he
was "as distinguished for felicitous execution as for science and
daring," and also stating that "Captain Lee, so constantly
distinguished, also bore important orders from me, until he fainted from
a wound and the loss of two nights' sleep at the batteries."
Scott, indeed, had an exalted opinion of Lee's remarkable military
abilities, and Hon. Reverdy Johnson has stated that he "had heard
General Scott more than once say that his success in Mexico was largely
due to the skill, valor, and undaunted energy of Robert E. Lee." In
later years Scott said, "Lee is the greatest military genius in
America."
Lee's services were not left without reward. He received successively
the brevet rank of major, lieutenant-colonel, and colonel, the latter
for his service at Chapultepec. The victory at this point was the
culminating event of the war. Shortly afterward the Mexican capital was
occupied, and the Mexicans soon gave up the contest as hopeless. A new
Cortez was in their streets, who was not to be got rid of except at a
heavy sacrifice.
As to how Lee occupied himself during this period, we may quote an
anecdote coming from General Magruder.
"After the fall of Mexico, when the American army was enjoying the ease
and relaxation which it had bought by toil and blood, a brilliant
assembly of officers sat over their wine discussing the operations of
the capture and indulging hopes of a speedy return to the United States.
"One among them rose to propose the health of the Captain of Engineers
who had found a way for the army into the city, and then it was remarked
that Captain Lee was absent. Magruder was despatched to bring him to the
hall, and, departing on his mission, at last found the object of his
search in a remote room of the palace, busy on a map. Magruder accosted
him and reproached him for his absence. The earnest worker looked up
from his labors with the calm, mild gaze which was so characteristic of
the man, and, pointing to his instruments, shook his head.
"'But,' said Magruder, in his impetuous way, 'this is mere drudgery.
Make somebody else do it, and come with me.'
"'No,' was the reply; 'no, I am but doing my duty.'"
This is very significant of Lee's subsequent character, in which the
demands of duty always outweighed any thought of pleasure or relaxation,
and in which his remarkable ability as an engineer was of inestimable
advantage to the cause he served.
_A CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE PLANTATION._
Shall we not break for a time from our record of special tales and let
fall on our pages a bit of winter sunshine from the South, the story of
a Christmas festival in the land of the rose and magnolia? It is a story
which has been repeated so many successive seasons in the life of the
South that it has grown to be a part of its being, the joyous festal
period in the workday world of the year. The writer once spent Christmas
as a guest in the manor house of old Major Delmar, "away down South,"
and feels like halting to tell the tale of genial merrymaking and
free-hearted enjoyment on that gladsome occasion.
On the plantation, Christmas is the beginning and end of the calendar.
Time is measured by the days "before Christmas" or the days "since
Christmas." There are other seasons of holiday and enjoyment, alike for
black and white, but "The Holidays" has one meaning only: it is the
merry Christmas time, when the work of the year past is ended and that
of the year to come not begun, and when pleasure and jollity rule
supreme.
A hearty, whole-souled, genial host and kindly, considerate master was
the old major, in the days of his reign, "before the war," and
fortunate was he who received an invitation to spend the midwinter
festival season under his hospitable roof. It was always crowded with
well-chosen guests. The members of the family came in from near and far;
friends were invited in wholesome numbers; an atmosphere of good-will
spread all around, from master and mistress downward through the young
fry and to the dusky-faced house-servants and plantation hands;
everybody, great and small, old and young, black and white, was glad at
heart when the merry Christmas time came round.
[Illustration: COTTON FIELD ON SOUTHERN PLANTATION.]
As the Yule-tide season approached the work of the plantation was
rounded up and everything got ready for the festival. The corn was all
in the cribs; the hog-killing was at an end, the meat salted or cured,
the lard tried out, the sausage-meat made. The mince-meat was ready for
the Christmas pies, the turkeys were fattened, especially the majestic
"old gobbler," whose generous weight was to grace the great dish on the
manor-house table. The presents were all ready,--new shoes, winter
clothes, and other useful gifts for the slaves; less useful but more
artistic and ornamental remembrances for the household and guests. All
this took no small thought and labor, but it was a labor of love, for
was it not all meant to make the coming holiday a merry, happy time?
I well remember the jolly stir of it all, for my visit spread over the
days of busy preparation. In the woods the axe was busy at work,
cutting through the tough hickory trunks. Other wood might serve for
other seasons, but nothing but good old hickory would do to kindle the
Christmas fires. All day long the laden wagons creaked and rumbled along
the roads, bringing in the solid logs, and in the wood-yards the shining
axes rang, making the white chips fly, as the great logs were chopped
down to the requisite length.
From the distant station came the groaning ox-cart, laden with boxes
from the far-off city, boxes full of mysterious wares, the black driver
seeking to look as if curiosity did not rend his soul while he stolidly
drove with his precious goods to the store-room. Here they were unloaded
with mirthful haste, jokes passing among the laughing workers as to what
"massa" or "mistis" was going to give them out of those heavy crates.
The opening of these boxes added fuel to the growing excitement, as the
well-wrapped-up parcels were taken out, in some cases openly, in others
with a mysterious secrecy that doubled the curiosity and added to the
season's charm.
There was another feature of the work of preparation in which all were
glad to take part, the gathering of the evergreens--red-berried holly,
mistletoe with its glistening pearls, ground-pine, moss, and other wood
treasures--for the decoration of parlor, hall, and dining-room, and,
above all, of the old village church, a gleeful labor in which the whole
neighborhood took part, and helpers came from miles away. Young men and
blooming maidens alike joined in, some as artists in decoration, others
as busy workers, and all as merry aids.
Days rolled on while all this was being done,--the wood chopped and
heaped away in the wood-sheds and under the back portico; the church and
house made as green as spring-tide with their abundant decorations,
tastefully arranged in wreaths and folds and circles, with the great
green "Merrie Christmas" welcoming all comers from over the high parlor
mantel. All was finished in ample time before the day of Christmas Eve
arrived, though there were dozens of final touches still to be made,
last happy thoughts that had to be worked out in green, red, or white.
On that same day came the finish which all had wished but scarcely dared
hoped for, a fleecy fall of snow that drifted in feathery particles down
through the still atmosphere, and covered the ground with an inch-deep
carpet of white. I well remember old Delmar, with his wrinkled, kindly
face and abundant white hair, and his "By Jove, isn't that just the
thing!" as he stood on the porch and looked with boyish glee at the
fast-falling flakes. And I remember as well his sweet-faced wife, small,
delicate, yet still pretty in her old age, and placidly sharing his
enjoyment of the spectacle, rare enough in that climate, in spite of the
tradition that a freeze and a snow-fall always came with the Christmas
season.
Christmas Eve! That was a time indeed! Parlor and hall, porch and
wood-shed, all were well enough in their way, but out in the kitchen
busy things were going on without which the whole festival would have
been sadly incomplete. The stoves were heaped with hickory and glowing
with ardent heat, their ovens crammed full of toothsome preparations,
while about the tables and shelves clustered the mistress of the place
and her regiment of special assistants, many of them famous for their
skill in some branch of culinary art, their glistening faces and shining
teeth testifying to their pride in their one special talent.
Pies and puddings, cakes and tarts, everything that could be got ready
in advance, were being drawn from the ovens and heaped on awaiting
shelves, while a dozen hands busied themselves in getting ready the
turkey and game and the other essentials of the coming feast that had to
wait till the next day for their turn at the heated ovens.
As the day moved on the excitement grew. Visitors were expected: the
boys from college with their invited chums; sons and grandsons, aunts
and cousins, and invited guests, from near and far. And not only these,
but "hired out" servants from neighboring towns, whose terms were fixed
from New Year to Christmas, so that they could spend the holiday week at
home, made their appearance and were greeted with as much hilarious
welcome in the cabins as were the white guests in the mansion. In the
manor house itself they were welcomed like home-coming members of the
family, as, already wearing their presents of new winter clothes, they
came to pay their "respecs to massa and mistis."
As the day went on the carriages were sent to the railroad station for
the expected visitors, old and young, and a growing impatience testified
to the warmth of welcome with which their arrival would be greeted. They
are late--to be late seems a fixed feature of the situation, especially
when the roads are heavy with unwonted snow. Night has fallen, the stars
are out in the skies, before the listening ears on the porch first catch
the distant creak of wheels and axles. The glow of the wood-fires on the
hearths and of candles on table and mantel is shining out far over the
snow when at length the carriages come in sight, laden outside and in
with trunks and passengers, whose cheery voices and gay calls have
already heralded their approach.
What a time there is when they arrive, the boys and girls tumbling and
leaping out and flying up the steps, to be met with warm embraces or
genial welcomes; the elders coming more sedately, to be received with
earnest handclasps and cordial greetings, Never was there a happier man
than the old major when he saw his house filled with guests, and bade
the strangers welcome with a dignified, but earnest, courtesy. But when
the younger comers stormed him, with their glad shouts of "uncle" or
"grandpa" or other titles of relationship, and their jovial echo of
"Merry Christmas," the warm-hearted old fellow seemed fairly transformed
into a boy again. Guest as I was, I felt quite taken off my feet by the
flood of greetings, and was swept into the general overflow of high
spirits and joyful welcomes.
The frosty poll of the major and the silvery hair of his good wife were
significant of venerable age, but there were younger people in the
family, and with them a fair sprinkling of children. Of these the
diminutive stockings were duly hung in a row over the big fireplace,
waiting for the expected coming of Santa Claus, while their late wearers
were soon huddled in bed, though with little hope of sleep in the
excitement and sense of enchantment that surrounded them. Their
disappearance made little void in the crowd that filled the parlor, a
gay and merry throng, full of the spirit of fun and hearty enjoyment,
and thoroughly genuine in their mirth, not a grain of airiness or
ostentation marring their pleasure, though in its way it was as refined
as in more showy circles.
Morning dawned,--Christmas morning. Little chance was there for
sleepy-heads to indulge themselves that sunny Yule-tide morn. The stir
began long before the late sun had risen, that of the children first of
all; stealing about like tiny, white-clad spectres, with bulging
stockings clasped tightly in their arms; craftily opening bedroom doors
and shouting "Christmas gift!" at drowsy slumberers, then scurrying away
and seeking the hearth-side, whose embers yielded light enough for a
first glance at their treasures.
Soon the opening and closing of doors was heard, and one by one the
older inmates of the mansion appeared, with warm "Merry Christmas"
greetings, and all so merry-hearted that the breakfast-table was a
constant round of quips and jokes, and of stories of pranks played in
the night by representatives of Santa Claus. Where all are bent on
having a good time, it is wonderful how little will serve to kindle
laughter and set joy afloat.
Aside from the church-going,--with the hymns and anthems sung in concert
and the reading of the service,--the special event of the day was the
distribution of the mysterious contents of the great boxes which had
come days before. There were presents for every one; nobody, guest or
member of the family, was forgotten, and whether costly, or homely but
useful, the gifts seemed to give equal joy. It was the season of
good-will, in which the kindly thought, not the costliness of the gift,
was alone considered, and when all tokens of kindliness were accepted in
the same spirit of gratefulness and enjoyment.
A special feature of a Christmas on the plantation, especially "before
the war," was the row of shining, happy black faces that swarmed up to
the great house in the morning light, with their mellow outcry of "Merry
Christmas, massa!" "Merry Christmas, missis!" and their hopeful looks
and eyes bulging with expectation. Joyful was the time when their gifts
were handed out,--useful articles of clothing, household goods, and the
like, all gladly and hilariously received, with a joy as childlike as
that of the little ones with their stockings. Off they tripped merrily
through the snow with their burdens, laughing and joking, to their
cabins, where dinners awaited them which were humble copies of that
preparing for the guests at the master's table. Turkey was not wanting,
varied here and there by that rare dish of raccoon or "'possum" which
the Southern darky so highly enjoys.
The great event of the mansion house was the dinner. All day till the
dinner-hour the kitchen was full of busy preparation for this crowning
culmination of the festival. Cooks there were in plenty, and the din of
their busy labor and the perfume of their culinary triumphs seemed to
pervade the whole house.
When the dinner was served, it was a sight to behold. The solid old
mahogany table groaned with the weight laid upon it. In the place of
honor was the big gobbler, brown as a berry and done to a turn. For
those who preferred other meat there was a huge round of venison and an
artistically ornamented ham. These formed the backbone of the feast, but
with and around them were every vegetable and delicacy that a Southern
garden could provide, and tasteful dishes which it took all the
ingenuity of a trained mistress of the kitchen to prepare. This was the
season to test the genius of the dusky Southern cooks, and they had
exhausted their art and skill for that day's feast. On the ample
sideboard, shining with glass, was the abundant dessert, the cakes,
pies, puddings, and other aids to a failing appetite that had been
devised the day before.
That this dinner was done honor to need scarcely be said. The journey
the day before and the outdoor exercise in that day's frosty air had
given every one an excellent appetite, and the appearance of the table
at the end of the feast showed that the skill of Aunt Dinah and her
assistants had been amply appreciated. After dinner came apple-toddy and
eggnog, and the great ovation to the Christmas good cheer was at an end.
But the festival was not over. Games and dances followed the feast. The
piano-top was lifted, and light fingers rattled out lively music to
which a hundred flying feet quickly responded. Country-dances they were,
the lancers and quadrilles. Round dances were still looked upon in that
rural locality as an improper innovation. The good old major, in his
frock coat and high collar, started the ball, seizing the prettiest girl
by the hand and leading her to the head of the room, while the others
quickly followed in pairs. Thus, with the touch of nimble fingers on the
ivory keys and the tap of feet and the whirl of skirts over the unwaxed
floor, mingled with jest and mirth, the evening passed gayly on, the
old-fashioned Virginia reel closing the ball and bringing the day's busy
reign of festivity to an end.
But the whites did not have all the fun to themselves. The colored
folks had their parties and festivities as well, their mistresses
superintending the suppers and decorating the tables with their own
hands, while ladies and gentlemen from the mansion came to look on, an
attention which was considered a compliment by the ebon guests. And the
Christmas season rarely passed without a colored wedding, the holidays
being specially chosen for this interesting ceremony.
The dining-room or the hall of the mansion often served for this
occasion, the master joining in matrimony the happy couple; or a colored
preacher might perform the ceremony in the quarters. But in either case
the event went gayly off, the family attending to get what amusement
they could out of the occasion, while the mistress arranged the
trousseau for the dusky bride.
But it is with the one Christmas only that we are here concerned, and
that ended as happily and merrily as it had begun, midnight passing
before the festivities came to an end. How many happy dreams followed
the day of joy and how many nightmares the heavy feast is more than we
are prepared to put on record.
_CAPTAIN GORDON AND THE RACCOON ROUGHS._
The outbreak of the Civil War, the most momentous conflict of recent
times, was marked by a wave of fervent enthusiasm in the States of the
South which swept with the swiftness of a prairie fire over the land.
Pouring in multitudes into the centres of enlistment, thousands and tens
of thousands of stalwart men offered their services in defence of their
cause, gathering into companies and regiments far more rapidly than they
could be absorbed. This state of affairs, indeed, existed in the North
as well as in the South, but it is with the extraordinary fervor of
patriotism in the latter that we are here concerned, and especially with
the very interesting experience of General John B. Gordon, as related by
him in his "Reminiscences of the Civil War."