The partisan leader: a novel, and an apocalypse of the origin and struggles of the southern confederacy

Front matter

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THE

PAKTISAKT LEADER:

Introduction

J

It is said of Mr. Burke that he could take a survey of the political sky and tell the destiny of nations for twenty years to come. Judge Tucker has literally done this, as far as the American people are concerned, as will be found strikingly illustrated in the work before us. Written and published in 1836, but bearing in its imprint the date of 1856, and intended as a tale of the fu/ure, applying to the intervening period, it has substantially foretold the great leading features of the history of the twenty-five years intervening between the time of its first publication, and this eventful era, at which it is again given to the public. . In following the history of the hero through the strange vicissitudes of love, and war, and wild adventure — glowing now with the roseate tinge of sentiment, and, anon, with the fiery hue of tragedy, the reader will be amazed to see the incidental mention of the great historical facts which have, in the last eighteen months, marked the disintegration of a vast republic, and the organization and struggles of a new one. The secession of the more Southern States — the formation of the "Southern Confederacy" — the hesitation of Virginia — the arguments which fifteen months ago resounded, from the Chesapeake to the Ohio in favour of her seceding and "accepting the invitation to join the Southern Confederacy" — the "pretext" on which the Northern army was raised; "the apprehension of hostilities from the Southern Confederacy"— the war — the effects of the blockade, even to its influence upon the article of common salt, etc., etc., seem as familiar to the pen of the great political seer, as if he had actually been a participant " in the great struggle" which he writes, " I witnessed and partook."

The reader will realize, perhaps, more amusement, though less of wonder, to see as thorough appreciation of Yankee character, as well in small things and in great, as the lights and shadows of twenty-five additional years of peace and war afford. " He surety had read some of McClellan's reports," was the playful remark of an intelligent friend, as we read the account of Col. Trevor's defeat, and his official report, which "lies like truth, and yet most truly lies."

Indeed, so marvellously does the book apply to recent and current events, that sometimes sketching its striking passages, with those who were not readers contemporaneous with its first circulation, they have

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IV INTRODUCTION.

taken the venerable copy and turned it over and said, so skeptically, this indeed looks like an old book, as that, by an unpleasant association of ideas, I have almost fancied myself suspected as a sort of Thomas Chatterton, with his affected old Saxon style, and black-lettered, artificially-blurred volumes, attempting to impose on the literary world. Many, however, will hail it as an old friend, whose eccentricities once served to amuse their idle hours; but treated at best with neglect, had withdrawn, and so secluded himself, that when by experience, they discover that "his folly was wiser than their wisdom," comes not promptly , when in their perplexity they call for him, but waits for the darkest horn-,* and then in the benign and venerable aspect of a prophet of God, comes to remind "■ of how these things must needs be," and in his^very salutation speaking words of cheer, and heralding a bright and glorious day.

It was for a number of years unknown who "Edward William Sidney" was. Indeed, that the public has remained in doubt to a very recent period, if not to this hour, will appear from the following quotation frota the Southern Literary Messenger of June 1861. The editor, introducing a notice of the "Partisan Leader," as recently re-published in the North, taken from the Baltimore Exchange, says: "We see that some of our exchanges have given credit to the novel in question to the pen of Judge Upshur, of Virginia, who was killed by the bursting of the 'Peacemaker;' but we believe the Baltimore Exchange is correct in attributing it to Judge Beverley Tucker of Virginia." It will be, therefore, gratifying to see this question set fully at rest, as it, is most satisfactorily done, in the following communication kindly furnished me by Lieut. Governor Montague, of Virginia:

Richmond, July 6th, 1862.

Pear Sir — I have received yours of the 30tb nit., asking me to give you any information I possess as to the authorship of a- book cailed "The Partisan Leader."' The late Judge Beverley Tucker, of Williamsburg, was the author of the work; and the first time I ever heard him declare he wrote the book was under the following circumstances: In 1842 or 43, I do not now remember the precise period, the Hon. J. M. Botts accused the late Judge A. P. Upshur, in a printed communication, of being a disunionist, and among other items of evidence brought forward by Mr. Botts to sustain this charge, as well as I now recollect, it was insinuated that Judge Upshur was the author of "The Partisan Leader. '; This controversy excited a good deal of interest in Williamsburg, where Judge Upshur had many warm friends *and admirers. 1 was at that time a student of William and Mary College, and a member of Judge Tucker's class, and on this occasion J heard him declare to his class that he wrote the book and was responsible for whatever sins or heresies it contained. This was the first time I ever heard him refer to the subject. After this I heard him refer to it frequently in private. I have often heard him

-f Written during the bloodv week at Richmond.

RBC

INTRODUCTION. V

say that those who were then deriding him, and denouncing his book as a treasonable production would live to see the day when they would acknowledge that his appreciation of the Yankee character was correct: and lament in tears and blood that his views were not sooner adopted by the South. It was written by its great author to open ths eyes of Virginia and the South trt the dangers which he so clearly saw just ahead, and which we all have so keenly felt. Well, well, would it have been could all have seen as he did.

I am glad to hear you design its re-publication. It is a master's work, and I have no doubt, but that, even now, its re-publication will be productive of good. Wishing you success in your enterprise,

I am hastily,, but very truly yours,

RO. L. MONTAGUE.

Sir Walter Scott was observed by a friend to be noting tbe kind of grass, flowers, and moss which grew about a great rock, and a cave, where h? proposed to lay the scene of one of his novels.

"Why do you that?" said the friend, "will not the daises and litch- <en do as well?"

"No," said the great word-painter, "soon your stock of litchen and daises would be exhausted, and you must become monotonous; but ad- . here to nature, and you will have the variety of nature."

Not less scrupulously faithful to nature has our author been. Learning that the principal scene of the story was laid in Patrick county, Va., I determined to make a pilgrimage to the now classic region of "the Devil's Backbone." On arriving at the court-house, I was informed that just such a, locality as that described, formerly known by that name, but now more familiarly known as "Witt's Spurr," was to be found in tljat wildest of mountain ranges, which rises in rugged grandeur six miles west ot- the village. I also learned, through the courtesy of that accomplished gentleman, Han. W. R. Staples, of the Confederate Congress, that in 1820 or 25, Judge Tucker paid a visit to that region, and in company with his father, a soldier friend in the war of 1812, spent a day rambling over the mountains; and further, that " Witt" was a real character, and was probably now to be found somewhere not distant from the scene where the author first introduces him. Veering southward on the North Carolina road, first of all to search out this old hero, at a distance of about three miles from the Court-house, I rode up to an humble dwelling on the left, without thought of else than enquiring the way, when an old woman, so large, so out-spoken and hard-sensed, reported herself in response to the call, and gave the desired directions, that it occurred at once to my mind, this would be a worthy help meet of that " large, powerful man, of untaught wisdom, Christian Witt." The following colloquy occurred : v

" Who lives here, madam ?" ' " Saunders Witt," with an independent air that bespoke pride of the name and place.

VI INTRODUCTION.

" Is he related to Christian Witt ?"

" I don't know, he has a good many kinfolks of his name. He's at the stable a little way ;long up the lane there, and you can talk with him if you feel like it."

I found him feeding his horse. When in response to my call he straightened himself, I recognized, with scarcely the shade of a doubt, the original of his graphic picture; and was sure that the " C hristian" prefix was given by the author only because he had forgotten his chn'stian name.

Alighting and introducing myself, after an interchange of enquiries* which fairly opened the way, said :

"Are you related to the Old Mr. Witt who once lived at the place now occupied by Charles Davis, just at the foot of the 'Devil's Backbone?" . #

" He was my father, sir."

" Do you remember anything of Judge Beverley Tucker paying a visit to this section some thirty or forty years ago, and going up to look at these mountains ?"

" Who ?" said he, "Adjutant Tucker. I knowed him in the war of twelve. Yes ! I was living then at my father's, and he come up there and said he wanted to go and look at the mountains; and my father went up with him. I said to him, 'why Adjutant Tucker, how do you do, sir Y and he said 'what, do you know me?' ' Yes,' says I, 'did'nt I hear you read the orders at the head of the rigiment Qvery evening at Norfolk/ And then he laughed."

"What kind of looking man was he, Mr. Witt?"

"Well, sir, he was about five feet ten inches high, slim and straight, had light hair and light eyes, and looked as keen as a night-hawk, sir."

From the account of many familiar with the author, it appears that Ms description of the mountaineer, though more elegant, was scarcely more graphic or comprehensive.

Curious to know whether the latter would recognize his own picture, and that of his father's house and its romantic approaches and surroundings, and could endorse the sentiments attributed to him, twenty-five years ago, as those he would avow in the miclst of the stirring scenes in which he is supposed to act no unimportant part, I continued : •

" What would you think, Mr. Witt, if I were to tell you that this same ^Adjutant' Tucker, some ten years after his visit here, and twenty-five years ago, wrote a Dook, in which he foretold all the great events in our history as a people ?" giving him an outline of the book, as furnished in the beginning of this article.

"Well, sir, I should think it right strange, but mightly like some of

INTRODUCTION. VII

our leading men told us j for I heerd Gov. Floyd make a speach once, and tell that these things was gwine to be, and pretty much how they was gwine to come about."

" But what would you think if I were to tell you further that he has your name in the book ? that he thinks Virginia hesitated till she was nearly overrun by the enemy, that we are sustaining a sort of guerilla, 'bush-whacking' warfare out here in the mountains, and that you are a kind of lieutenant, exerting a valuable influence among your mountain neighbours ?"

"Well, I'd think that was strange, too, but he know'd me in the war of twelve !"

" I have the book along, Mr. Witt."

" I'd be mighty much obleged to you if you'd read it to me."

I produced the book, and complied with his request by reading the first two or three chapters. The description of the road, the stream, the mountains, and the surroundings of his father's house, were endorsed by an occasional " that's so, sir." When his name was introduced, and the description of his person, he said :

" He must a meant me, sir."

I suggested, " He supposes, Mr. Witt, that these things occurred some twelve or fifteen years ago. Could you not have borne, at that time of life, such a part as he attributes to you ?"

" I reckon I could, sir ; for I ought to be mighty thankful that though I am failin now, I have been a very powerful man."

When I read ' to him his remarks, ac the dinner, about the scarcity of " salt," " and the Yankees holding James river," he added, with an air of grave astonishment —

" I say that to you now, sir !"

I could but regard him with a kind of romantic veneration, as a real character in a great prophetic story, whose thrilling events have been essentially fulfilled, and in the realization of which, evincing the same characteristics and endorsing the same sentiments which it was supposed he would maintain. All that I learned from his neighbors tended but to show that precisely such circumstances as those supposed would probably have developed precisely such a character as he is presumed to have sustained. I may add, as a pleasing little episode, that, though for these forty years " they have wedded been,"* he has never been known to depart or return, on a few miles trip, without kissing his il darling Katie."

In company with a friend, I spent a day traversing the mountains. Fanned by the pure air, se^en degrees cooler than in the sultry vale beneath, bearing upon its ever waving wings the sweets of a thousand

VIII INTRODUCTION.

flowers, we observed all the varieties of growth and scenery remarked by the author. We counted thirteen vertebra in the " Devil's Backbone," or " notches in the Hen's Ladder/' and it required no fertile imagination to locate the rocky covert of the sentinel, the stand of the piquet, and the headquarters of " The Partisan Leader " — marked, as the wide, wild gorge, with its difficult approaches of steep precipice, and its clear, dashing river, " pouring over rugged barriers of yellow stone."

The reader will observe that I have '.voided the mention of the mere objective political features of the story, such as the person, and time of service of the President, whose election, by a sectional vote, caused the dissolution, as also the date of the occurrences, and such like, which, to the great subjective features that have been so strikingly realized, are as the drapery to the picture, and have sought simply to give him, at a glance, an insight into the character of the book, and to actualize some of its minor circumstances of scenery and character.

A word of personal explanation, and I am done. My attention being called to the work by the notice alluded to, in the Literary Messenger, some twelve months since, I had felt the intensest curiosity to read and compare it with the momentous events of the present crisis, but had found my inquiries vain during that period, and had despaired of obtaining my object. A few weeks since, however, in the regular routine of duty, by a happy accident I blundered upon it. Amazed, and gratified in finding it a greater literary curiosity than I had even supposed, it immediately occurred to me that thousands must realize a similar interest with myself in its perusual; and that while its republication was due alike to the fame of its author and to historical propriety, its general circulation would tend to illlustrate the necessity of our position, to vindicate the justice of our cause, and to intensify Southern patriotism. Astonished that it had not been republished, I determined that if others would not undertake the w >rk, with the approval of those who have the first right to represent the author and his interests, I would myself engage in the enterprise. Deferring as far as practicable to these, I was assured that they were desirous of its re-publication, and had once made arrangements for it; but owing to the fall of Norfolk the work had been estopped in that direction, and that I could therefore feel free to go forward with it. Pleased that I am permitted, in. a manner consonant with the proprieties of the case, thus to minister, as I humbly conceive, at once to the public gratification and the public good, I commit the great work, in its original form, to its own vindication, trusting to the intelligence of the reader to apply the coincidences which mark its fulfillment as a political prophecy.

THOS. A. WAKE.

Chapter I

And whomsoe'er, along the path you meet, Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet.

Byron.

Toward the latter end of the month of October, 1849, about the hour of noon, a, horseman was seen ascending a narrow valley at the eastern foot of the Blue Kidge. His road nearly followed the course of a small stream, which, issuing from a deep gorge of the mountain, winds its way between lofty hills, and terminates its brief and brawling course in one of the larger tributaries of the Dan. A glance of the eye took in the whole of the little settlement that lined its banks, and measured the resources of its inhabitants. The different tenements were so near to each other as to allow but a small patch of arable land to each. Of manufactures there was no appearance, save only a rude shed at the entrance of the valley, on the door of which the oft-repeated brand of the horse shoe gave token of a smithy. There, too, the rivulet, increased by the innumerable springs which afforded to every habitation the unappreciated, b\$ inappreciable luxury of water, cold, clear and sparkling, had gathered strength enough to turn a tiny mill. Of trade there could be none. The bleak and rugged barrier, which closed the scene on the west, and the narrow road, fading to a footpath, gave assurance to the traveller that he had here reached the ne plus ultra of social life in that direction.

Indeed, the appearance of discomfort and poverty in every dwelling well accorded with the scanty territory belonging to each. The walls and chimneys of unhewn logs, the roofs of loose boards laid on long rib-poles, that projected from the gables, and held down by similar poles placed above them, together with the smoked and sooty appearance of the whole, betokened an abundance of timber, but a dearth of everything else. Contiguous to each was a sort of rude garden, denominated, in the ruder language of the country, a "truck patch."7 Beyond this lay a small field, a part of which had produced a crop of oats, while on the remainder the Indian corn still hung on the stalk, waiting to be gathered. Add to this a small meadow, and the reader will have an outline equally descriptive of each of the little farms which, for the distance of three miles, bordered the stream.

But, though the valley thus bore the marks of a crowded population, a deep stillness pervaded it. The visible signs of life were few. Of sounds there were none. A solitary youngster, male or female, alone was seen loitering about every door. These, as the traveller passed along, would skulk from observation, and then steal out, and, mounting a fence, indulge their curiosity, at safe distances, by looking after him.

At length he heard a sound of voices, and then a shrill whistle, and all was still. Immediately, some half a dozen men, leaping a fence, ranged themselves across the road and faced him. He observed that each, as he touched the ground, laid hold of a rifle that leaned against the enclosure, and this circumstance drew his attention to twenty or more of these formidable weapons, ranged along in the same position. The first impulse of the traveller was to draw a pistol ; but seeing that the men, as they posted themselves, rested their guns upon the ground and leaned upon them, he quietly withdrew his hand from his holster. It was plain that no violence was intended, and that this movement was nothing but a measure of precaution, such as the unsettled condition of the country required. He therefore advanced steadily but slowly, and, on reaching the party, reined in his horse and silently invited the intended parley.

The men, though somewhat variously attired, were all chiefly clad in halfdressed buck-skin. They seemed to have been engaged in gathering corn in the adjoining field. Their companions, who still continued the same occupation, seemed numerous enough (including women and boys, of both of which there was a full proportion,) to have secured the little crop in a few hours. Indeed, it would seem that the whole working population of the neighborhood, both male and female, was assembled there.

As the traveller drew up his horse, one of the men, speaking in a low and quiet tone, said, " We want a word with you, stranger, before you go any further."

" As many as you please," replied the other, " for I am tired and hungry, and so is my horse ; and I am glad to find some one, at last, of whom I may hope to purchase something for both of us to eat."

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" That you can have quite handy/' said the countryman ; u for we have been gathering corn, and were just going to our dinner. If you will only just 'light, sir, one of the boys can feed your horse, and you can take such as we have got to give you."

The invitation was accepted j the horse was taken in charge by a long-legged lad of fifteen, without hat or shoes, and the whole party crossed the fence together.

At the moment, a man was seen advancing toward them, who, observing their approach, fell back a few steps, and threw himself on the ground at the foot of a large old apple-tree. Around this were clustered a motley group of men, women and boys, who opened and made way for the stranger. He advanced, and bowing gracefully, took off his forage cap, from beneath which a quantity of soft, curling flaxen hair fell over his brow and cheeks. Every eye was now fixed on him, with an expression rather of interest than mere curiosity. Every countenance was serious and composed, and all wore an air of business, except that a slight titter was heard among the girls, who, hovering behind the backs of their mothers, peeped through the crowd to get a look at the handsome stranger.

He was indeed a handsome youth, about twenty years of age, whose fair complexion and regular features made him seem yet younger. He was tall, slightly but elegantly formed, with a countenance in which softness and spirit were happily blended. His dress was plain and cheap, though not unfashionable. A short grey coat, waistcoat and pantaloons, that neatly fitted and set off his handsome person, showed by the quality of the cloth that his means were limited, or that he had too much sense to waste in foppery that which might be better expended in the service of his suffering country. But, even in this plain dress, he was apparelled like a king in comparison with the rustics that surrounded him ; and his whole air would have passed him for a gentleman in any dress and any company where the constituents of that character are rightly understood.

In the present assembly there seemed to be none, indeed, who could be supposed to have had much experience in that line. But dignity is felt, and courtesy appreciated by all, and the expression of frankness and truth is everywhere understood.

As the youth approached, the man at the foot of the tree arose and returned the salutation, which seemed unheeded by the rest. He advanced a step or two, and invited the stranger to be seated. This action, and the looks turned toward him by the others, showed that he was in authority of some sort among them. With him, therefore, our traveller concluded that the proposed conference was to be held. There was nothing in his appearance which would have led a careless observer to assign him any pre-eminence} but a second glance might have discovered something intellectual in his countenance, with less of boorishness in his air and manner than the rest of the company displayed. In all, indeed, there was the negative courtesy of that quiet and serious demeanor which solemn occasions impart to the rudest and most frivolous. It was plain to see that they had a common purpose, and that neither ferocity nor rapacity entered into their feeling toward the new-comer. Whether he was to be treated as a friend or an enemy, obviously depended on some high consideration, not yet disclosed.

He was at length asked from whence he came, and answered from the neighborhood of Richmond. From which side of the river ? From the north side. Did he know anything of Van Courtlandt ? His camp was at Bacon's Branch, just above the town. What force had he?

" I cannot say certainly," he replied, " but common fame made his numbers about four thousand."

(C Is that all, on both sides of the river ?" said his interrogator.

" 0, no ! Col. Loyal's regiment is at Petersburg, and Col. Coles's at Manchester — each about five hundred strong ; and there is a piquet on the bridge island."

" Did you cross there ?"

" I did not."

." Where then ?" he was asked.

" I can hardly tell," he replied ; " it was at a private ford, several miles above Cartersville."

" Was not that mightily out of the way ? What made you come so far around ?"

" It was safer travelling on that side of the river."

* Then the people on that side of the river are your friends ?"

" No, they are not ; but, as they are all of a color there, they would let me pass, and ask no questions, as long as I travelled due west. On this side, if you are one man's friend, you are the next man's enemy; and I had no mind to answer questions."

" You seem to answer them now mighty freely."

" That is true. I am like a letter that tells all it knows as soon as it gets to the right hand ; but it does not want to be opened before that."

" And how do you know that you have got to the right hand now V

" Because I know where I am."

" And where are you I"

" Just at the foot of the Devil's Backbone," replied the youth.

(i Were you ever here before ?"

" Never in my life."

" How do you know then where you are ?" asked the mountaineer.

" Because the right way to avoid questions is to ask none. So I took care to know all about the road, and the country, and the place, before I left home."

" And who told you all about it ?"

" Suppose I should tell you," answered the young man, "that Van Courtlandt had a map of the country made, and gave it to me."

" I should say you were a traitor to him or a spy to us," was the stern reply.

At the same moment a startled hum was heard from the crowd, and the press moved and swayed for an instant, as if a sort of spasm had pervaded the whole mass.

" You are a good hand at questioning," said the youth, with a smile ; " but, without asking a single question, I have found out all I wanted to know."

" And what was that ?" asked the other.

" Whether you were friends to the Yorkers and Yankees, or to poor old Virginia."

" And which are we for ?" added the laconic mountaineer.

" For Old Virginia forever," replied the youth, in a tone in which exultation rung through a deeper emotion, that half stifled his voice.

It reached the hearts of his auditors, and was echoed in a shout that pealed along the mountain sides their proud war-cry of " Old Virginia forever !" The speaker looked around in silence, but with a countenance that spoke all that the voices of his comrades had uttered.

" Quiet, boys," said he, " never shout till the war is ended, unless it be when you see the enemy." Then turning again to the traveller, he said, " And how did you know we were for old v irginia ?"

" I knew it by the place where I find you. I heard it in your voice ; I saw it in their eyes ; and I felt it in my heart," said the young man, extending his hand.