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Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
[Illustration: GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE ON "TRAVELLER."
_From a photograph by Miley, Lexington, Va._]
REMINISCENCES OF PEACE AND WAR
by
MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR
Author of "The Mother of Washington and Her Times"
Revised And Enlarged Edition
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
Copyright, 1904, 1905,
by the Macmillan Company.
Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1904. Reprinted
December, 1904; March, 1905.
New edition, with additions, September, 1905; April, 1908.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO THE MEMORY OF
My Son
WILLIAM RICE PRYOR, M.D.
WHO GAVE TO SUFFERING HUMANITY ALL THAT
GOD HAD GIVEN HIM
Preface
It will be obvious to the reader that this book affects neither the
"dignity of history" nor the authority of political instruction. The
causes which precipitated the conflict between the sections and the
momentous events which attended the struggle have been recounted by
writers competent to the task. But descriptions of battles and civil
convulsions do not exhibit the full condition of the South in the
crisis. To complete the picture, social characteristics and incidents of
private life are indispensable lineaments. It occurs to the author that
a plain and unambitious narrative of her recollections of Washington
society during the calm which preceded the storm, and of Virginia under
the afflictions and sorrows of the fratricidal strife, will not be
without interest in the retrospect of that memorable era. The present
volume recalls that era in the aspect in which it appeared to a woman
rather than as it appeared to a statesman or a philosopher.
ROGER A. PRYOR.
Contents
CHAPTER I
PAGE
Washington in the Fifties—Literary Society during Fillmore's
Administration—John P. Kennedy, G. P. R. James, Mrs. Gales,
and Mrs. Seaton—Anna Cora Mowatt 3
CHAPTER II
President Pierce's Inauguration—The New Cabinet—Mr. Marcy
prescribes Court Dress with Varying Results—Jefferson
Davis—Sam Houston—General Scott—Washington Irving—Adelina
Patti and Mrs. Glasgow—Advice of an "Old Resident" and its
Unfortunate Result 15
CHAPTER III
Mr. Buchanan and his Cabinet—Roger A. Pryor's Mission to
Greece—The Court of Athens—The Maid of Athens—The Ball at the
Hotel de Ville—Queen Victoria's Dress and Dancing—The Countess
Guiccioli—Early Housekeeping in Washington 38
CHAPTER IV
The President at Church—Levee at the White House—A Dinner
Party at the White House—Miss Harriet Lane—Lord and Lady
Napier—Ball in their Honor—Baron and Madame Stoëckle—Madame
Bodisco—The First Japanese Embassy to the United States 47
CHAPTER V
Great Names on the Rolls of the Supreme Court, Senate,
and House of Representatives—Pen Picture of Stephen A.
Douglas—Incident at a Ball—Mrs. Douglas—Vanity Fair, "Caps,
Gowns, Petticoats, and Petty Exhibitions"—_Décolleté_
Bodices—A Society Dame's Opinion thereon 66
CHAPTER VI
Beautiful Women in Washington during Mr. Buchanan's
Administration—Influence of Southern Women in
Society—Conversational Talent—Over the _Demi-tasse_ after
Dinner—Over the Low Tea-table—Hon. John Y. Mason and the Lady
who changed her Mind—The Evening Party—Brilliant Talkers and
Good Suppers 80
CHAPTER VII
The Thirty-sixth Congress—Stormy Scenes in the House of
Representatives—Abusive and Insulting Language—Rupture of
Social Relations—Visit from General Cass at Midnight—The
Midnight Conference of Southern Leaders—Nominations for
the Presidency—The Heated Campaign and the "Unusual Course"
of Stephen A. Douglas—Author of the Memorable Words of Mr.
Seward, "Irrepressible Conflict" 93
CHAPTER VIII
Memorable Days in the History of the Country—A Torch-light
Procession in Virginia—An Uninvited Listener to a Midnight
Speech—Wedding of Miss Parker and Mr. Bouligny—The President
learns of the Secession of South Carolina—Admiral Porter
visits his South Carolina Friends—The Last New Year's Day
in Washington—Parting Words in Congress—The Setting Sun of a
Happy Day 107
CHAPTER IX
The Fall of Fort Sumter—Virginia sends "Peace Ambassadors"
to Washington—Conventions in Richmond—Ordinance
of Secession—Rally of Virginians—Enthusiasm of the
Women—Soldiers' Outfits 120
CHAPTER X
March of the Volunteers—Sail down James River—Firing the First
Gun of the Regiment—A Peaceful Volley 134
CHAPTER XI
A Virginia Tobacco Plantation—"Health, Peace, and
Competence"—Country Dinners—A Negro Funeral—General McClellan
and the Boys' Regiment 146
CHAPTER XII
Battle of Bull Run—Life at Smithfield—General Pemberton—First
Sight of the Enemy—A Sudden Change of Base—Battle
of Williamsburg—General McClellan—General Joseph E.
Johnston—Battle of Seven Pines—Richmond realizes the Horrors
of War 160
CHAPTER XIII
The Seven Days' Battles around Richmond—Pryor's Brigade
ordered to the Front—Finding a Wounded Soldier—Midnight Watch
after the Fight—Work in the Hospital—Ministrations of Virginia
Women—Death of a Christian Soldier—Colonel Brokenborough's
Sufferings, Fortitude, and Death—Richmond saved 174
CHAPTER XIV
Campaign in Maryland and Northern Virginia—Battles of
Manassas, South Mountain, and Sharpsburg (Antietam)—Winter
Quarters in Culpeper—Stories around the Campfire—Devotion to
General Lee—Incidents related by his Aide, Colonel Taylor 193
CHAPTER XV
The Foraging Party on the Blackwater—Incidents of Camp Life—A
Hazardous Experiment in "Blockade Running"—Letter from
"Agnes"—A Colored Man's Views of his own Place in Time of
War—Fight on the Blackwater—Richmond Gossip from "Agnes" 210
CHAPTER XVI
The Bread Riot at Richmond, described by
"Agnes"—Correspondence between the President, General Lee,
and General Pryor—A Great Victory at Chancellorsville—General
Lee's Order upon entering Pennsylvania—Cornwallis's Orders
in 1781—Incident of Vicksburg Campaign—Dreadful Defeat at
Gettysburg—Surrender of Vicksburg 237
CHAPTER XVII
The Winter of 1863-1864—Personal Experiences—Patrick Henry's
Granddaughter—The Spring and Summer in Petersburg—Famine, and
Some of the Women who endured it—John tells of the Averill
Raid—General Orders No. 7—Domestic Manufactures—General Lee's
Dinner—His Service of "Plate" 251
CHAPTER XVIII
Siege of Petersburg—Fight at Petersburg, June 9—General
Lee arrives at Petersburg—General Grant shells the
City—Conference of Pierre Soulé, General D. H. Hill, General
Longstreet, and General Pryor—Battle at Port Walthall—A
German Maiden and her Lover—Substitute for Medals of Honor—A
Perilous Commission—Explosion of the Mine under Confederate
Fortifications 270
CHAPTER XIX
August in the Besieged City—The Dead Soldier—Return to
Cottage Farm—General Lee makes his Headquarters near Cottage
Farm—General Wilcox encamps in Yard and Garden—Picket Firing
between Friendly Foes—New Uses for Champagne Glasses 292
CHAPTER XX
Capture of General Pryor—John and the Negro Trader—Expedients
for the Support of my Family—A New Use for Ball
Dresses—Capture of the Rev. Dr. Pryor 306
CHAPTER XXI
Christmas at Cottage Farm—Dark Days of Famine and
Desertion in the Army—The Psalm of Life—A _Déjeuner à la
Fourchette_—"Starvation Parties"—The Peace Commission—The
Irish M.P. from Donegal—General Lee reveals the Desperate
Condition of his Army—A Visit from General Lee 319
CHAPTER XXII
General Pryor's Return from Captivity—Story of his Release
from Prison and Interview with Mr. Lincoln—April 2—Defeat
at Cottage Farm—Surrender of Petersburg—Entrance of Federal
Troops—Personal Experiences 338
CHAPTER XXIII
Evacuation of Richmond described by "Agnes"—Mr. Lincoln's
Entrance into Richmond as related by Admiral Porter 354
CHAPTER XXIV
Arrival of Southern Prisoners of War—General Sheridan "knows
how to make the terms for a house that suits him"—"We've
caught Jeff Davis"—General Sheridan's Visit—Frank Expression
of a Yankee Soldier—General Warren tells us of Lee's Surrender
361
CHAPTER XXV
Incidents and Events—Loyalty of Domestic Servants—The First
Army Ration to Destitute Women—Mrs. Hartsuff—Return to Cottage
Farm—A Scene of Desolation—The Lonely Vigil—Kindness of
Negroes and Fidelity of Old Family Servants 372
CHAPTER XXVI
Tourists—The Reverend Brother and the Young People—The Army
of Norway Rats—The "Met Bullets"—General Grant—The Destruction
of Fortifications and Change of Base—In the Garden at Cottage
Farm—The Voice in the Night 390
CHAPTER XXVII
The First Decoration Day—The Old Church at Blandford—The
First Memorial Association—Covering the Soldiers' Graves with
Flowers—"Until the Day Dawn" 404
CHAPTER XXVIII
Virginia in the Early Days of Peace—Behavior of the
Freedmen—Clara's Home-coming and Death—The Welcome to the New
Home—General Pryor removes to New York City 412
Illustrations
GENERAL ROBERT E. LEE ON "TRAVELLER." From a photograph by
Miley, Lexington, Va. _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
APPOMATTOX, RESIDENCE OF THE EPPES FAMILY. This estate at City
Point on James River has been in the Eppes family since it was
first patented, through a grant from Charles First to Colonel
Francis Eppes in 1635 136
WESTOVER. Owned in 1619 by Henry West, fourth Lord Delaware 140
LOWER BRANDON. The estate of "Brandon" (since divided) was
patented in 1617 by Captain John Martin. In 1720 it was
conveyed to Nathaniel Harrison, and has remained ever since
in the possession of the Harrison family 144
THE OAKS 148
MALVERN HILL. Named after the hills that divide the counties
of Hereford and Worcester. Here one of the most sanguinary
conflicts of the war took place. The old dwelling-house, a
fine specimen of colonial architecture, is still standing 188
HON. ROGER A. PRYOR. From a photograph, about 1870 218
SIEGE MAP OF PETERSBURG. Drawn by Federal engineers, and used
by the Union Army throughout the last year of the war 350
OLD BLANDFORD CHURCH, PETERSBURG, VA. Built in 1734. From a
photograph taken since the roof was renewed; it was not roofed
in 1867 408
The author desires to acknowledge her indebtedness to President Lyon G.
Tyler of William and Mary College for information regarding the colonial
homes on James River. The pictures of Appomattox, Lower Brandon, and
Malvern Hill are from photographs by Mr. H. P. Cook of Richmond, Va.
PEACE AND WAR
Reminiscences of Peace and War
CHAPTER I
WASHINGTON IN THE FIFTIES
The Washington that I knew in the fifties was not the Washington of
Dickens, Mrs. Trollope, and Laurence Oliphant. When I knew the capital
of our country, it was not "a howling wilderness of deserted streets
running out into the country and ending nowhere, its population
consisting chiefly of politicians and negroes";[1] nor were the streets
overrun with pigs and infested with goats. I never saw these animals in
the streets of Washington; but a story, told to illustrate the best way
of disposing of the horns of a dilemma proves one goat at least to have
had the freedom of the city. It seems that Henry Clay, overdue at the
Senate Chamber, was once hurrying along Pennsylvania Avenue when he was
attacked by a large goat. Mr. Clay seized his adversary by the horns.
So far so good, but how about the next step? A crowd of sympathetic
bootblacks and newsboys gathered around offering advice. "Let go, Mr.
Clay, and run like blazes," shouted one; and Mr. Clay did let go and
did run, his senatorial coat-tails flying like pennons behind him.
But this was before my day. I remember Washington only as a garden of
delights, over which the spring trailed an early robe of green, thickly
embroidered with gems of amethyst and ruby, pearl and sapphire. The
crocuses, hyacinths, tulips, and snowdrops made haste to bloom before
the snows had fairly melted. The trees donned their diaphanous veils of
green earlier in the White House grounds, the lawn of the Smithsonian
Institution, and the gentle slopes around the Capitol, than anywhere
in less distinguished localities. To walk through these incense-laden
grounds, to traverse the avenue of blossoming crab-apples, was pure
pleasure. The shaded avenues were delightful long lanes, where one
was sure to meet friends, and where no law of etiquette forbade a
pause in the public street for a few words of kindly inquiry, or a
bit of gossip, or the development of some plan for future meetings. If
one's steps tended to the neighborhood of 7th and D streets, nothing
was more probable than a meeting with one of Washington's most noted
citizens,—the superb mastiff of Mr. Gales, the veteran editor of the
_National Intelligencer_, as the dog gravely bore in a large basket
the mail for the office. No attendant was needed by this fine animal.
He was fully competent to protect his master's private and official
correspondence.
He had been taught to express stern disapprobation of Democrats; so if a
pleasant walk with him was desired, it was expedient for members of that
party to perjure themselves and at once announce: "I am an 'Old-Line
Whig,' old man," and the dog's tail would wag a cordial welcome.
Omnibuses ran along Pennsylvania Avenue, for the convenience of
Senators, Congressmen, and others on their way to the Capitol,—but the
saunter along the avenue was so charming that I always preferred it
to the People's Line. There were few shops. But such shops! There was
Galt's, where the silver, gems, and marbles were less attractive than
the cultivated gentleman who sold them; Gautier's, the palace of sweets,
with Mrs. Gautier in an arm-chair before her counter to tell you the
precise social status of every one of her customers, and what is more,
to put you in your own; Harper's, where the dainty, leisurely salesman
treated his laces with respect, drawing up his cuffs lest they touch the
ethereal beauties; and the little corner shop of stern Madame Delarue,
who imported as many (and no more) hats and gloves as she was willing to
sell as a favor to the ladies of the diplomatic and official circles,
and whose dark-eyed daughter Léonide (named for her godmother, a Greek
lady of rank) was susceptible of unreasoning friendships and could be
coaxed to preserve certain treasures for humbler folk.
Léonide once awoke me in the middle of the night with a note bidding me
"come _tout de suite_," for "Maman" was asleep, the boxes had arrived;
and she and I could peep at the bonnets and choose the best one for
myself. Thus it was that I once bore away a "divine creation" of point
lace, crêpe, and shaded asters before Madame had seen it. Otherwise
it would have been reserved for Miss Harriet Lane or Mrs. Douglas.
Madame had to know later; and Léonide was not much in evidence the rest
of that season. At Madame Delarue's, if one was very _gentil_, very
_convenable_, one might have the services of François, the one and only
hair-dresser of note, who had adjusted coronets on noble heads, and who
could (if he so minded) talk of them agreeably in Parisian French.
All these were little things; but do not pleasant trifles make the sum
of pleasant hours? Washington was like a great village in those days of
President Pierce and President Buchanan. To obtain the best of the few
articles to be purchased was an achievement.
My own pride in the Federal City was such that my heart would swell
within me at every glimpse of the Capitol: from the moment it rose like
a white cloud above the smoke and mists, as I stood on the deck of the
steamboat (having run up from my dinner to salute Mount Vernon), to
the time when I was wont to watch from my window for the sunset, that
I might catch the moment when a point on the unfinished dome glowed
like a great blazing star after the sun had really gone down. No matter
whether suns rose or set, there was the star of our country,—the star
of our hearts and hopes.
I acknowledge that Wisdom is much to be desired of her children, but
nowhere is it promised that they will be the happier for gaining her.
When my lot was cast in Washington, Wisdom had not taught me that the
White House was less beautiful than a classic temple. To be sure,
Dickens had called it "like an English club-house,"—that was bad
enough,—but Mark Twain had not yet dubbed it "a fine, large, white barn
with wide handsome grounds around it." "The President lives there,"
says Washington Hawkins. "It is ugly enough outside, but that is
nothing to what it is inside." To my uneducated eye the East Room with
its ornate chandeliers, fluted pillars, and floriated carpet was an
audience chamber fit for a king. A triumph of artistic perfection was
the equestrian statue of the hero of New Orleans, now known to be out
of all proportion, and condemned as "bad" and "very bad" by Wisdom's
instructed children. Raising his hat, indeed! Why, any man in that
position would be holding on to the mane with both hands to keep from
sliding off. And as for the Capitol—the sacred Capitol! From foundation
to turret it was to my eye all that genius and patriotism could achieve.
The splendid marbles at the entrance, the paintings, the bas-reliefs
within the rotunda,—these were things to boast of, to dream of. Not yet
had arisen our irreverent humorist to warn us never to enter the dome
of the Capitol, "because to get there you must pass through the great
rotunda, and to do that you would have to see the marvellous historical
paintings that hang there and the bas-reliefs,—and what have you done
that you should suffer this?"
When our friends came up from Virginia to make us visits, it was
delightful to take a carriage and give up days to sight-seeing; to visit
the White House and Capitol, the Patent Office with its miscellaneous
treasures; to point with pride to the rich gifts from crowned heads
which our adored first President was too conscientious to accept; to
walk among the stones lying around the base of the unfinished monument
and read the inscriptions from the states presenting them; to spend a
day at the Smithsonian Institution, and to introduce our friends to its
president, Mr. Henry; and to Mr. Spencer Baird and Mr. Gerard, eminent
naturalists, who were giving their lives to the study of birds, beasts,
and fishes,—finding them, Mr. Gerard said, "so much more interesting
than men," adding hastily, "we do not say ladies," and blushing after
the manner of cloistered scholars; to tell them interesting things
about Mr. Gerard who was a melancholy young man, and who had confided
to me that he had sustained a great sorrow. Had he lost his fortune,
or been crossed in love, was he homesick for his native Switzerland?
Worse than any one or all of these! He had been sent once to Nantucket
in the interests of his profession. There he had found a strange fish,
hitherto unknown to science. He had classified its bones and laid them
out on his table to count them. In a moment's absence the housemaid had
entered and dusted his table.
Then the visits to the galleries of the House and Senate Chamber,
and the honor of pointing out the great men to our friends from rural
districts; the long listening to interminable speeches, not clearly
understood, but heard with a reverent conviction that all was coming out
right in the end, that everybody was really working for the good of his
country, and that we belonged to it all and were parts of it all.
This was the thought behind all other thoughts which glorified
everything around us, enhanced every fortunate circumstance, and caused
us to ignore the real discomforts of life in Washington: the cold,
the ice-laden streets in winter; the whirlwinds of dust and driving
rains of spring; the swift-coming fierceness of summer heat; the rapid
atmospheric changes which would give us all these extremes in one week,
or even one day, until it became the part of prudence never to sally
forth on any expedition without "a fan, an overcoat, and an umbrella."
The social life in Washington was almost as variable as the climate.
At the end of every four years the kaleidoscope turned, and lo!—a new
central jewel and new colors and combinations in the setting.
But behind this "floating population," as the political circles were
termed, there was a fine society in the fifties of "old residents" who
never bent the knee to Baal. This society was sufficient to itself,
never seeking the new, while accepting it occasionally with discretion,
reservations, and much discriminating care. The sisters, Mrs. Gales and
Mrs. Seaton, wives of the editors of the _National Intelligencer_, led
this society. Mrs. Gales's home was outside the city, and thence every
day Mr. Gales was driven in his barouche to his office. His paper was
the exponent of the Old-Line Whigs (the Republican party was formed
later) and in stern opposition to the Democrats. It was, therefore, a
special and unexpected honor for a Democrat to be permitted to drive
out to "the cottage" for a glass of wine and a bit of fruit-cake
with Mrs. Gales and Mrs. Seaton. Never have I seen these gentlewomen
excelled in genial hospitality. Mrs. Gales was a superb old lady and a
fine conversationalist. She had the courteous repose born of dignity
and intelligence. She was literally her husband's right hand,—he had
lost his own,—and was the only person who could decipher his left-hand
writing. So that when anything appeared from his pen it had been copied
by his wife before it reached the type-setter. A fine education this
for an intelligent woman; the very best schooling for a social life
including diplomats from foreign countries, politicians of diverse
opinions, artists, authors, musicians, women of fashion, to entertain
whom required infinite tact, cleverness, and an intimate acquaintance
with the absorbing questions of the day.
Of course the levees and state receptions, which were accessible to all,
required none of these things. The role of hostess on state occasions
could be filled creditably by any woman of ordinary physical strength,
patience, and self-control, who knew when to be silent.
Washington society, at the time of which I write, was comparatively
free from non-official men of wealth from other cities who, weary with
the monotonous round of travel,—to the Riviera, to Egypt, to Monte
Carlo,—are attracted by the unique atmosphere of a city holding many
foreigners, and devoted not to commercial but to social and political
interests. The doors of the White House and Cabinet offices being open
on occasions to all, they have opportunities denied them in their own
homes. Society in Washington in the fifties was peculiarly interesting
in that it was composed exclusively of men whose presence argued them to
have been of importance at home. They had been elected by the people,
or chosen by the President, or selected among the very best in foreign
countries; or they belonged to the United States Army or Navy service,
or to the descendants of the select society which had gathered in the
city early in its history.
During the Fillmore administration there were peculiar elements in
Washington society. The President was born of poor English parents. At
the age of fifteen he was apprentice to a wool-carder in Livingston
County, New York, representing in his father's mind no higher hope
than gradual advancement until he should attain the proud place of
woollen-draper. But at nineteen he had entered a lawyer's office,
working all day, teaching and studying at night. When he became
President his tastes had been sufficiently ripened to enable him to
gather around him men of literary taste and attainment. John P. Kennedy,
an author and a man of elegant accomplishments, was Secretary of the
Navy. Washington Irving was Kennedy's friend, and often his guest.
Lesser lights in the world of letters found Washington an agreeable
residence. We knew many of these men, and among them none was brighter,
wittier, or more genial than G. P. R. James, the English novelist whose
star rose and set before 1860. He was the most prolific of writers,
"Like an endless chain of buckets in a well," said one; "as fast as one
is emptied up comes another."
We were very fond of Mr. James. One day he dashed in, much excited:—
"Have you seen the _Intelligencer_? By George, it's all true! Six times
has my hero, a 'solitary horseman,' emerged from a wood! My word! I was
totally unconscious of it! Fancy it! Six times! Well, it's all up with
that fellow. He has got to dismount and enter on foot: a beggar, or
burglar, or pedler, or at best a mendicant friar."
"But," suggested one, "he might drive, mightn't he?"
"Impossible!" said Mr. James. "Imagine a hero in a gig or a curricle!"
"Perhaps," said one, "the word 'solitary' has given offence. Americans
dislike exclusiveness. They are sensitive, you see, and look out for
snobs."
He made himself very merry over it; but the solitary horseman appeared
no more in the few novels he was yet to write.
One day, after a pleasant visit from Mr. James and his wife, I
accompanied them at parting to the front door, and found some difficulty
in turning the bolt. He offered to assist, but I said no—he was not
supposed to understand the mystery of an American front door.
Having occasion a few minutes afterward to open the door for another
departing guest, there on his knees outside was Mr. James, who
laughingly explained that he had left his wife at the corner, and had
come back to investigate that mystery. "Perhaps you will tell me," he
added, and was much amused to learn that the American door opened of
itself to an incoming guest, but positively refused without coaxing
to let him out. "By George, that's fine!" he said, "that'll please the
critics in my next." I never knew whether it was admitted, for I must
confess that, even with the stimulus of his presence, his books were
dreary reading to my uninstructed taste.
A very lovely and charming actress was prominent in Washington society
at this time,—the daughter of an old New York family, Anna Cora (Ogden)
Mowatt. She was especially interesting to Virginians, for she had
captivated Foushee Ritchie, soon afterward my husband's partner on the
editorship of the _Richmond Enquirer_. Mr. Ritchie, a confirmed old
bachelor, had been fascinated by Mrs. Mowatt's Parthenia (in "Ingomar")
and was now engaged to her. He proudly brought to me a pair of velvet
slippers she had embroidered for him, working around them as a border
a quotation from "Ingomar":—
"Two souls with but a single thought,
Two hearts that beat as one."
And oh, _how_ angry he was when an irreverent voice whispered one word,
"Soles!"
"Cora must never hear of this," he declared indignantly; "she is, beyond
all women, incapable of _double entendre_, of coarse allusion."
Alas! I cannot conclude my little story, "And they were married and
lived happily ever after." They were married—and lived miserably—and
were separated ever after. The single thought was how they could best
escape each other—and the two hearts beat as one in the desire for
freedom.
"The shadow of the coming war was even then beginning to darken the
land and confuse legislation with bitter partisanship and continuous
attempts at an impossible compromise," but, alas! our eyes were holden
so we could not see.