Upon leaving the home of General Toombs, we proceeded directly to that of Senator Hill, where shortly were gathered ex-Secretary of our Navy and Mrs. Mallory, Mr. and Mrs. Semmes, of Louisiana, and Senator Wigfall. We were an anxious circle, our hearts heavy with the constantly increasing testimony2 to our great disaster, and our minds alert to measure the ways and means of our future course. My husband and Mr. Wigfall had already determined3 to seek the other side of the Mississippi, there to join the gallant4 Kirby Smith, and make a last stand for our cause; or, if needs must be, to press on to Texas. Day by day disturbing news reached us concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Davis and his party, now making their sorry flight toward the coast of Florida, fugitives5 from the Federal authorities.
A Northerner would have found us a wonderful nest of “rebels,” could he have looked in upon the group that one evening surrounded the table in the library of the Hill residence, upon which was spread the map of Georgia. The gentlemen were seated, the ladies standing6 behind them. Every eye was bent7 upon the road which our host was pointing out.
“If Davis would take this route”—and Mr. Hill’s finger traced the way upon the diagram before us, “if he keeps to it without any detour8 whatsoever9, he will get away,” he declared. “If he turns aside a step or lingers an hour he is lost! If he crosses the river there”—and 247our host, who knew the topography of his State by heart, paused as he marked the spot, “no one can take him!”
Not a member of that circle but was tense in his or her desire that our chief should be spared the ignominy and pain of capture. The magnanimity of Senator Wigfall, whose antagonism10 to President Davis had caused a profound concern in Richmond in this hour of the Confederacy’s downfall, was especially marked.
To the present, none of those assembled at the hospitable11 Hill home had reason to apprehend12 a personal danger from the conquering party. The meeting had taken place at Appomattox which, more than victories gained, has made the name of Grant immortal13. The Northern General had received the proffer14 of Lee’s sword, and peace had been proclaimed. By the terms made we had some little reason to be optimistic as to our future, despite the peopling of our Southern cities with union soldiers. The developments of one fateful day, however, unveiled to us the actual perils15 we were yet to face.
As I have said, my husband and Mr. Wigfall had practically completed their arrangements to leave Lagrange and strike for the Mississippi. It was my expectation, thereupon, to return to our parents’ home in Huntsville. The day agreed upon for my departure approached. At the request of my husband, I drove to the cars to ascertain16 what currency would be required to take me to Macon, whence I was to proceed at once to Alabama. In company with Henrietta Hill and her little brother, I drove to the station in time to see the afternoon train pull in. As it swept into the city with a shrill17 scream, it was crowded with men and women of both races; so overcrowded, rather, that many clung to the platforms. There were shouts and a general Babel, which I did not understand, and, as debarkation18 began, to these was added the bedlam19 of drunken laughter. When as near to the cars as the carriage would permit, I 248directed Benny Hill to go forward to the conductor and ask “What currency is needed to get to Macon?”
The man seemed to understand that I had prompted the question, and called to me, “Gold or greenbacks, Madam?” Then, not waiting for my reply, he hastened to add the news, “Macon has been surrendered by General Howell Cobb to the Federals, General Wilson commanding. Atlanta, as you know, is in the hands of the Yankees, Colonel Eggleston in charge!”
This was disappointing news to me, as I had but little gold and a peck of Confederate paper, which was not likely to carry me far under reported conditions. I waited until the crowd had thinned out somewhat, and then questioned the man further.
“Is there any other news than that of the proclamation for Mr. Davis’s arrest?” I asked. His reply astounded20 me.
“Yes, Madam!” he said; “$100,000[43] is offered for Clement21 C. Clay, of Alabama.” A trembling seized me. I don’t know how I made my way to the carriage. Before I was fairly seated I saw Colonel Philip Phillips, at this time a resident of Lagrange, coming toward us. In his hands he held a journal. Quickly reaching the carriage, he handed me the paper, and, pointing to the despatch22, which contained the proclamation, he said, “Go home quickly and give this to Mr. Clay!”
Scarcely aware of what I did, I ordered the coachman to drive back at once, forgetting in the excitement of the moment to invite the Colonel to accompany me. Arriving at the Hill residence, I met my hostess almost at the door.
“Please ask the gentlemen to come to us!” I said 249faintly, “I have important news!” and I hastened upstairs.
I found Mr. Clay sitting quietly, deep in the conning23 of a thick volume. It was Burton’s “Anatomy of Melancholy,” ever a favourite with him. It lay open on his knee, steadied with one hand; the other, as was a habit with my husband, was stroking his beard, absentmindedly. Before I could summon my voice to utter the terrible news, the others of the party had hastened upstairs. Handing the fatal paper to Senator Hill, I cried, half-hysterically24, “For God’s sake, read that!”
As Mr. Hill read the proclamation aloud, everyone was silent. Senator Semmes was the first to break the silence that followed the reading.
“Fly for your life, Clay!” he said, “The town is full of men from two disbanded armies, any of whom would be tempted25 by such a sum. Take no chances!” Then all at once everyone but my husband began to talk excitedly. As the meaning of the despatch broke upon him, Mr. Clay blanched26 a moment, but at Mr. Semmes’s urgings he spoke27.
“Fly?” he said, slowly, like one recovering from a blow, “from what?” Mr. Semmes’s answer came drily.
“From death, I fear!” he said. My husband turned inquiringly to the others. Secretary Mallory, seeing the unspoken question in his face, answered it.
“I don’t know what to say, Clay! One hundred thousand dollars is a glittering bribe28 to half-starved soldiers!” He had scarcely spoken when a knock was heard. Alarmed by the thought that some renegade was already come to arrest my husband, I flew to the door and locked it. As I did so, Senator Hill was beside me, and I remember the forceful feeling with which he spoke, even as the click of the key sounded.
“By the eternal God, Clay!” he said. “The man who dares cross my threshold to arrest you, falls on it.”
250Fortunately our fears were groundless, for in a moment we heard the word, “Phillips!” and, upon opening the door, the Colonel quickly entered. His calm bearing was a relief to us. Some one at once put the question to him, “What do you think Clay ought to do?”
“What does Mr. Clay think he should do?” was Colonel Phillips’s reply. My husband was prompt to answer:
“As I am conscious of my innocence29, my judgment30 is that I should at once surrender to the nearest Federal authorities!” he said.
At this announcement I could not restrain my sobs31. I doubt not I troubled him much by my tears and pleadings. I begged him hysterically to fly; I would join him anywhere if he would but escape. But my ever patient husband only answered, as he tried to calm me, “Virginia! my wife! Would you have me fly like an assassin?”
I could say no more, but only listen, between the crowding fears and terrors that seized me, while those about discussed the wording of a telegram which, a short time afterward32, Colonel Phillips carried to the telegraph office. It ran thus:
“Bt. Major-General Wilson, United States Army: Seeing the proclamation of the President of the United States, I go to-day with the Honourable33 P. Phillips, to deliver myself to your custody34.
C. C. Clay, Jr.”
I think this resolute35 act, and the preparation of a letter which was immediately written to the same general, relieved my husband, for he was instantly calmer. For myself, I felt that he had signed his own death warrant. During the succeeding hours, the entire household was in consultation36. Having decided37 to proceed to Macon by the early train the next morning, Mr. Clay retired38 and slept, to my surprise, as peacefully as a child, though I, less fortunate, watched and wondered at his calmness.
Early the following morning we left Lagrange, accompanied by Colonel Phillips. The world appeared 251very strange and worthless to me as the train hastened on to Atlanta, where a change of cars was necessary. We found that city a pandemonium39; soldiers patrolling the streets, drums beating, and vans, loaded with furniture, moving up and down the avenues. In our desire to proceed as rapidly as possible we accosted40 a soldier.
“Where is Colonel Eggleston?” Colonel Phillips asked.
“There he is, within ten feet of you!” was the reply. The Colonel thereupon approached the officer in command and said to him, “I have a distinguished41 friend here, Mr. Clement C. Clay, of Alabama, who is on his way voluntarily to surrender himself.”
On hearing my husband’s name, Colonel Eggleston approached us and held out his hand, saying: “Is it possible, Mr. Clay, you are the man who is making such a stir in the land? I am not surprised at your surrender. I knew your record through my Senators, Pugh and Pendleton, of Ohio. You’ve done the right thing, sir, and I hope you’ll soon be a free man.”
Mr. Clay, surprised at the Federal Colonel’s magnanimity, turned and presented him to me. He extended his hand. I took it. It was the first Yankee hand I had touched since we had left Minnesota, four years before. The Colonel assured us it was impossible for us to proceed that night to Macon. “It will be best for you,” he said, “to spend the night at the Kimball House. But the city is in a tumult42, and, as Mrs. Clay is with you, I will have a guard that you may not be disturbed.” When we were ready to retire, two soldiers appeared, with muskets43 in hand, and took their stand, one at each side of our chamber44 door, where they remained until the next morning.
Shortly after breakfast, Colonel Eggleston presented himself. His manner was courteous45. “As times are so turbulent,” he said, “I think it best that I should detail a guard to accompany you to Macon; that is,” he added, 252“unless you object.” Upon Mr. Clay’s assurance that the guard would not be unpleasant to us, the General presented Lieutenant46 Keck, a young officer, who, during the conversation, had been standing near. Thereupon the Lieutenant attached himself to our party and we boarded the car for Macon. Throughout the trip our guard behaved with undeviating consideration, and this, under trying circumstances; for, the wires flashing the news about the country, many of the stations along the road were crowded with friends, who, when they saw us, uttered expressions of intensest regret, even urging my husband to fly. On more than one occasion, so considerate was Lieutenant Keck’s conduct, that he allowed Mr. Clay to leave the car, unguarded.
During that journey the young officer addressed me but twice; the first time to offer me a glass of water, and the second to tell me a piece of news that shocked me in double force. As we approached Macon, my husband had endeavoured to prepare me for whatever the future might hold for us. He was a prisoner, he said, and though self-surrendered, I must not be alarmed if we should find a phalanx of soldiers waiting us at the depot47. The picture thus conjured48 had already made me sick at heart, when my husband, excusing himself, went forward into the next car for a few moments. A short time afterward Lieutenant Keck appeared. Approaching me he said, with some hesitation49, “Mrs. Clay, I have some sad news for you!”
My husband’s previous words suddenly rushed over me. He had been preparing me for something he knew but dared not tell me! In a moment, in my mind’s eye, I saw a gibbet. “Great God,” I cried. “What is it? Will they hang my husband?”
“Don’t be frightened, Mrs. Clay,” our guard answered. “Don’t cry! Your chief was arrested yesterday!”
“My chief,” I echoed. “You mean General Lee?”
253“No!” was his response, “Mr. Davis! He is now at the Lanier House, in Macon!” The loosening of the tension to which I first had been keyed was so great that I was scarcely able to utter a comment, nor had I recovered from the shock when the train pulled into Macon. Notwithstanding my husband’s brave counsels, the news of Mr. Davis’s arrest added a hundredfold to our depression. When I told Colonel Phillips and Mr. Clay, who shortly returned, my husband’s face grew graver. “If that is true,” he said, “my surrender was a mistake. We shall both perish!”
In an indistinct way I felt my husband to be right; and surely after events demonstrated how nearly truly he had prophesied50. The almost instantaneous appearance of Mr. Clay and Mr. Davis as prisoners produced a confusion in the press statements and telegrams that flew over the country, and coloured the feeling of the public to such an extent that those in high places who were seeking sacrificial victims were enabled, without exciting a protest, to overlook the fact that Mr. Clay, scorning arrest, had confidently and voluntarily committed himself into the Government’s hands, to court its fullest investigation51. “The arrest of Clement C. Clay,” was the heading under which my husband’s courageous52 act was buried in so far as it might be; and so generally was the fact of his voluntary surrender overlooked, that a Southern historian, whose books have been circulated among schools, took up the phrase and incorporated it among the “historic” facts which children con1.
Arrived at Macon, we found a single transfer wagon53 at the station. To this we were conducted, and our party of four, with our grips and valises, completely filled the vehicle. As we drove away from the station I felt much as must have felt the poor wretches54 in the French Revolution as they sat in the tumbrels that bore them to the guillotine.
254We drove at once to the residence of our friends, Colonel and Mrs. Whittle55, whence Colonel Phillips proceeded to General Wilson’s headquarters to deliver my husband’s letter announcing his surrender. It was a beautiful afternoon. The trees were in full foliage56 and the air delicious with sweet odours of Southern blossoms. Dusk was approaching as, without previous announcement, we drove up to the Whittle home. The family were seated on the veranda57. With them was our brother, J. Withers58 Clay. As they recognised us they rushed down the steps to meet us, full of eager questioning.
“What does it mean?” they cried. “Why have you come here?” and every eye was full when my husband answered, “I have surrendered to the United States Government. Allow me to present my guard, Lieutenant Keck!” Never shall I forget how dear Mrs. Whittle (who was slightly deaf), with eyes full of tears, reached out her hand to that representative of our triumphant59 antagonists60, as if, by a forbearing kindness, she would bespeak61 his favour for my husband.
As we entered the house, we were all in tears, and Colonel Phillips, glad of an excuse to leave the painful scene, hastened to deliver his message to the General in command. Returning in the course of an hour, he reported General Wilson as approving Mr. Clay’s course. He sent word that he was awaiting instructions in regard to Mr. Davis’s party, “Whom, I presume, you will accompany. Meanwhile, I request that you will not talk of the surrender!” He further directed that Lieutenant Keck be sent immediately to him. I think this young soldier had a tender heart, for, seemingly touched at our sorrowful situation, he lingered about a moment as if unwilling62 to leave us without a farewell. Seeing his hesitation, I offered him my hand and thanked him for his humane63 treatment of my husband, which, I assured him, I should ever remember. If his eyes, or 255those of others to whom he was dear should see this acknowledgment they will know I did not speak lightly.
General Wilson’s request was scrupulously64 observed by us, and though friends came in numbers to sympathise with us and encourage us, we were silent on the forbidden topic of my husband’s surrender. A day or two later, word came that we must hold ourselves in readiness to leave Macon. Meantime, I had addressed a note to General Wilson, begging that I might be allowed to accompany my husband on his journey to his destination, wherever it might be. The Commanding General promptly65 acceded66 to my request, though, he assured me, the trip before us would be a rough and disagreeable one, and advised me to consider well before I took it.
Of course, I was not to be deterred67. I made instant preparation for the journey. My available wardrobe was small, being limited to a few Perodi’s (which in those days served the same purpose as the shirt-waist of 1900) and a rusty68 black skirt, a veritable war-relic; but my friends in Macon, knowing the impossibility of getting my own possessions together, quickly came to the rescue. The results of their generosity69 were not in all cases strictly70 what donor71 or recipient72 might have wished, from the point of view of fashion or art. For example, Mrs. Lucius Mirabeau Lamar sent me a treasured foulard silk gown, of a pretty brown and white pattern; but she, being both shorter and stouter73 than I, the fit was not one that even the deliberately74 courteous would have ventured to call a good one; nevertheless, I received it gratefully and courageously75 adapted it to serve as travelling attire76. Mrs. William D. Johnston, too, sister of our loved General Tracy, likewise urged a gift upon me of several changes of Parisian lingerie, which she had but just acquired. With this borrowed finery (which afterward carried its own penalty) stowed in my valise, when the announcement 256of the time appointed for our departure came to us, it found me ready.
It was set for the late afternoon. We arrived at the railway station a half-hour before train time. At the last, we hastened away from the friends whose sorrow and sympathy threatened to disturb the composure it was so necessary to preserve against our coming ordeals77. We were surprised to find the city in a kind of uproar78. Cavalry79 clattered80 through the streets and gazing sight-seers thronged81 the sidewalks. Our passage to the station proceeded without mishap82 or adventure of any kind; nevertheless, we had scarcely alighted from our carriage when, looking back, up the street we saw a company of cavalrymen approaching. There was an increasing activity in the gathered crowds, which were composed of silent citizens of Macon, elbowed by Freedmen and union soldiers, who lounged among them.
As the cavalry approached the station, the significance of the scene became plain to us. They were a guard, flanking on each side an old “jimber-jawed, wobble-sided” barouche, drawn83 by two raw-boned horses. In the strange vehicle were seated Mr. and Mrs. Davis. Mr. Davis was dressed in a full suit of Confederate grey, including the hat, but his face was yet more ashen84 than was his garb85. Behind them, completing the pitiful cortège, came a carryall, in which were Miss Howell, the Davis little ones and nurses; and, as the procession drove by, the alien and motley crowd along the walks yelled and hooted86 in derision. But not all—one heartless union soldier tried the patience of a sorrowful “rebel” onlooker87.
“Hey, Johnny Reb,” shouted the first, “we’ve got your President!”
“And the devil’s got yours!” was the swift reply.
As the procession arrived at the station, two soldiers approached Mr. and Mrs. Davis, and escorted them at 257once to the cars. The interest of everyone for the moment being centred on the party of the late President, my excitement grew. Wild thoughts filled my mind. I could not restrain them. “Oh! if they would only forget you!” I said impetuously, to my husband. Alas88! scarcely had I uttered the words when two guards approached. “This is Mr. Clay, I presume?” and with a hasty farewell to our kind friends, the Whittles89, we were soon aboard the cars.
As we entered, Mr. Davis rose and embraced me.
“This is a sad meeting, Jennie!” he said, as he offered me a seat beside him, for Mrs. Davis and my husband, already deep in conversation, had established themselves nearby. As I seated myself I became aware that the car had filled up with soldiers. I heard the doors slam, and the command, “Order arms!” and in the dull thud of their muskets as the butts90 struck the floor, I realised for the first time that we were indeed prisoners, and of the nation!
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1
con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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debarkation
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| n.下车，下船，登陆 | |
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bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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conning
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| v.诈骗，哄骗( con的现在分词 )；指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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48
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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49
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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whittle
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| v.削（木头），削减；n.屠刀 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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bespeak
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| v.预定；预先请求 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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acceded
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| v.（正式）加入( accede的过去式和过去分词 )；答应；（通过财产的添附而）增加；开始任职 | |
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deterred
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| v.阻止，制止( deter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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donor
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| n.捐献者；赠送人；(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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courageously
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| ad.勇敢地，无畏地 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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ordeals
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| n.严峻的考验，苦难的经历( ordeal的名词复数 ) | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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onlooker
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| n.旁观者，观众 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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whittles
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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