The sublime tragedy of the lost cause

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, IPS z^3 ,*>,

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

Introduction

The story of the old soldier ; whose silvery locks Were lovingly mingled with the golden hair Of a beautiful girl who was sleeping there On his battle-scarred breast.

The great civil war of America — that heroic struggle of the southern people in defence of the Lost Cause, against the stupendous power of the North, wielded in support of the Federal Union — furnished many a tragic incident of sellsacrifice and noble devotion, worthy to be celebrated in song or woven into the fabric of romance ; but there is no private history of which I know anything as full of dramatic effects as the one I now propose to relate. Nor can I think of one more closely interwoven with those great events that have rendered this beautiful region historic — events that transpired, my child, before your fair face had made the world brighter, or these golden curls had coiled themselves so closely around your grandfather's heart. My story relates to those turbulent times when sectional animosity and po-

The Tragedy of the Lost Cause.

Htical antagonism had at last culminated in the disintegration of the Union, and finally precipitated the stupendous catastrophe of war ; when society was shaken to its center, and the natural ties of blood and association were uprooted and scattered as by a whirlwind ; when religious fanaticism largely usurped the place of piety ; when incendiary speeches were made from the pulpit, and prowling emissaries penetrated even the more remote and secluded regions of the South, and in the name of humanity and high heaven, incited the negroes to revolt and massacre, and the most horrible excesses of infuriate hatred. At the time when my story begins, the storm had not yet broken, or the seal of death been set on these enchanting scenes ; but it was not long ere these peaceful valleys were made the theatre of a gigantic conflict, and the solitude of these mountain fastnesses broken by the bugle-call rallying brave men to battle. Then the tramp of armed legions was heard in the night, and streams of glittering steel poured through our valleys ; nor was it long ere the clash of arms and thunder of heavy guns were heard in the wild tumult and shock of war.

The speaker was a man far advanced in years ; but his tall, fine form was unbent by time, and his noble features still retained their habitual expression of command. There was in his manner a quiet dignity and conscious power, truly majestic ; and the fine inflections of his voice — deep and soft as the sound of distant summer thunder — gave evidence, if that were wanting, of the thoroughly cultivated gentleman ; whilst his martial bearing, no less than the deep scar which

The Tragedy of the Lost Cause.

lay in a white seam across his forehead, might well have indicated to one not knowing it, that he had been no stranger to those scenes of havoc to which he had referred ; and yet, upon the lips of that stern, dark man, there was a tremor of emotion — not that of weakness, but of strength of feeling — and in his touch a tenderness like that of woman, as he toyed with those masses of beautiful hair that lay like ripples of sunlight on his battle-scarred breast, and kissed the fair, young face that nestled so lovingly against his own. But why was he silent so long ? Was the story forgotten ? Was the old soldier dreaming ? Yes, dreaming as memory dreams of the past — dreaming of joys that were gone ; of the youth that had fled ; of the hopes that were dead ; of the love, and sorrow, and agony of other years ; of the days of desolation and night of despair ! Then the glory of sunset, and the sweet, serene twilight at last.

He had been dreaming long — how long he knew not, nor cared. Still he rested his chin on the withering hand that held his heavy cane, his dark eyes fixed on scenes that no longer moved before him.

The beautiful girl, too gentle to disturb his reverie, had crept still closer to the brave old heart, and now lay fast asleep on her grandfather's breast; her fair hair mingled with his silvery locks, and the trembling sweetness of her soft, warm lips still pressed, while she slept, to the brawny cheek of that stern old warrior. But the lovely picture was lost to him ; his thoughts were turned back o'er the years that had fled, and the varied scenes of his eventful life ; and long he sat there, motionless, on that picturesque porch, where the luxurious honeysuckle loaded the air with

The Tragedy of the Lost Cause.

its rich perfume ; nor thought of the sweet young life whose pure current ran so close to the dark mystery of his own ; still less of the changeful beauty of the evening landscape, as the lengthening shadows crept over the valley, or the magnificent panorama of celestial loveliness passing before him.

The sun had gone down behind the purple gloom of North Mountain in all the pomp and splendor of the god of day, trailing his robes of royal purple, and crimson, and gold along the rosy-green sky; whilst the Blue Ridge blushed beneath his parting kiss. The graceful form of Mount Massanutton, clothed in opalescent hues, lay in soft lines along the south-west horizon. Down in the valley where the blue mists had gathered, winding away through the olivegreen forests, the flashing waters of the bright Shenandoah, with their green, glassy curves and feathery spray, as they curled 'round the rocks on their musical way to the broad Potomac, were lost in the distance and gloom of the coming night.

No sound disturbed the deep solitude of the hour, save the tinkle of cow-bells beyond the river, and the voice of a solitary fisherman returning from his nets, chanting a melody in a low, monotonous tone to the dip of his oars, as his eyes wandered thoughtfully backwards along the pale wake of his boat. Ever and anon, a fish broke the surface of the mirrored waters with circles of light spreading afar o'er the deep purple shadows in the quiet stream ; then all was still.

The day was spent. Over the dark curtain of mountains in the east the full moon rose with ruddy glow ; and

The Tragedy of the Lost Cause.

the solitary owl in the lonely forest proclaimed the reign of night. Close by the side of a beautiful brook, that ran through a rocky ravine to the river near by, where the clear, cool current suddenly started from its loitering way, and went dashing and flashing between the green rocks, whose purple and russet sides — sometimes silvered with a winterish frost, or covered in places with spangles of moss — were reflected here and there in the eddying pools ; there stood an humble cottage, half concealed amidst grand, old forest trees, and surrounded with green grass and beds of flowers, with here and there a clump of flowering shrubs.

A certain air of comfort and refined taste, not unmingled with an unconscious evidence of gentle breeding and former affluence, surrounded the unpretentious home.

Stretching along the front of the house was a long, low porch, commanding a glorious view, and laden with masses of fragrant honeysuckle in bloom, through which the moon, light streamed, and wrought fantastic forms in bright mosaic on the floor.

In after years, at such an hour, there sat on that picturesque porch and dreamed, an old man, whose silvery locks were lovingly mingled with the golden hair of a beautiful girl, who was sleeping there on his battle-scarred breast ; and the trembling sweetness of her soft, warm lips was pressed, as she slept, to the brawny cheek of that stern old warrior.

Act I

Scene 1. — Not far from this cottage, on the banks of the beautiful river, whose tiny wavelets now flashed in the moonlight like spangles of stars on the bosom of night, stood a hewn-log-cabin, whose appearance of cleanly comfort and contentment was in perfect harmony with the adjacent house to which it evidently belonged.

Just emerging from the door came an aged negro, who paused a moment upon the threshold and looked around ; then pounding the floor with his heavy cane, he accompanied the action with a merry voice, saying —

Tom. You, Dina ! You ole gal !

What you want, nigga? [answered Dina from within.]

Tom. Bring dat a' banjo hea' dis minute ; d' yo' hyea' me ?

Ugh ! [Then lowering his voice into a wierd chant, he sung]—

Hoo, hoo-ooh ; hoo-ooh !

De moon am on de riba;

Hoo, hoo-ooh ; hoo-ooh !

De wata 's all a-quiba ;

An' de spa'kles bright,

Like de sta's ob night,

Am trembl'n on de riba.

Hoo, hoo-ooh ; hoo-ooh !

I's gwine to git de banjo, too ; hoo-ooh ; hoo-ooh.

[Pausing, he placed his hand to his ear and leaned forward in a listening attitude. Far away beyond the river,

The Tragedy of the Lost Cause.

amidst the forest's solitude and mountain mystery, echo answered] —

Hoo-ooh ; hoo-ooh.

Old Tom. Ugh, ugh ! You 's been da long 'nough to knows de voice ob Ole Tom widout ax'n me — " Who 's you ! " No, sah, you ca'nt come dat on dis nigga ! [And the old negro then commenced to move in a wierd sort of dance with his shadow, in a manner that showed the dexterity he had possessed in earlier years.]

Enter Old Dina, an aged negress, wife of Tom.

Whew ! Lo'd a-mighty, nigga ! [ejaculated the old woman, as she appeared at the door with the banjo, rolling her eyes in astonishment, and showing the ivory in her capacious mouth.]

Ugh-ugh ! Gugh-faugh ! Hyeah, hyeah, hyeah ! [she continued, convulsed with laughter, winding up with an exhaustive slap on her knee] —

Am dat you, Tom? Fo' de lo'd, honey; if you isn't git'n young agin', sho' 'nuff.

Tom. Hyeah, hyeah ? [laughed Old Tom.]

You 's shout'n now ! But I say, you Dina ; d' you 'memba de times when dis ole coon use to shuffle 'roun' dat a' little fat gal dat you wuz, an' tickle you unda de ribs — so ! [mischievously suiting the action to the words.]

Go 'long, nigga ; no you neba ; [cried Dina with a broad grin, retreating behind the door.]

Ugh ! Golly ; but dat ole gal 's a caution, sho ! [exclaimed the old man, looking around in search of something.]

Bress me ; wha 's dat a' cheer done gone to ?

Ugh-hugh ; hea' you is, is you ? [he continued reaching around for something he felt in his rear.]

Come 'long roun' hea', now, wha' you 's wanted ; so ! [and he slowly hauled it around with the stern deliberation of a school-master who had detected a youngster pinning paper to his coat tail, and set it down before him ; eyeing it the while as if fearful it might get away again.]

Now, den [he continued], you jis stay right dar 'till Ole Tom gits de banjo ; you hea' ? [And the good old soul shuffled back to the door for his beloved instrument, where Dina had left it, with an amusingly suspicious glance backwards at the recreant stool. Having secured his treasure, he retraced his steps and sat down on the rickety old stool with such emphasis that they both went crashing to the ground. Picking himself up very leisurely, he rubbed himself in various places to ascertain the extent of the damage ; examined his banjo ; inspected the chair ; and felt the bald spot on the top of his head to see if it was still there.]

Hyeah, hyeah ! [he exclaimed.] Dah you is yit ; de same ole spot ! [Finding everything in working order, he balanced himself carefully on the three remaining legs of the stool, and began to tune his banjo. Having done so to his satisfaction, he said merrily] —

Dat ah ole song ; I neba does git tia'd ob dat ole song ; it sort o' brings back de mem'ry ub de good ole times. [Then raising his deep full voice — which trembled, however, a little with age — he sang to an accompaniment] —

Wha' de moonbeam am de brightest, da dis nigga lubs to be,

An' dance wi' dis hea' nigga [pointing at his shadow],

dat 's de nigga shape ob me ; An' 'magine dat 's de coon dat use to climb de ole gum

tree By moon-light a'ta possums in de woods ob Tennessee.

Burden : Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

An' 'magin 'dat 's de coon dat use to climb de ole gum

tree — Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

By moonlight a'ta possums in de woods ob Tennessee. [As he paused, the voices of a company of negroes in the distance rose in a grand chorus] — Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ; An' 'magin 'dat 's de coon dat use to climb de ole gum

tree — Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ; By moonlight a'ta possums in de woods ob Tennessee.

Tom. Hyeah, hyeah ! [laughed Old Tom.] Dey 's com'n, sho ! [And the old fellow slapped his knee in great glee, and squirmed around, rolling his eyes with delight ; then raised his voice again in song] —

Wha de moonbeam am de brightest, da dis nigga lubs

to be, An' 'magin 'dat 's de nigga [shadow] dat dis nigga use

to see When I dance wid lubly Dina in de yea's so long

gone by, Afo' de stary brightness had died out ob her black eye.

Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

I dance wid lubly Dina in de yea's so long gone by —

Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

Afo' de stary brightness had died out ob her black eye.

[As he softly picked an interlude in a meditative way, the negro chours, now evidently nearer, again caught his ear, rising clear and full on the night air.] —

Negro Chorus. Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

He dance wid lubly Dina in de yea's so long gone by —

° n . n igg as 5 yes, niggas ;

Afo' de stary brightness had died out ob her black eye !

[Shaking his head sadly, as if to deprecate the ravages of time, Old Tom added in a soft, low solo] —

Afo' de stary brightness had died out ob her black eye !

[Then he picked an interlude and resumed his song] —

When de moonbeam am de brightest, an' dis nigga

[shadow] da'kest seems, De fo'ms ob ea'ly joys come back in dis hea' nigga's

dreams ; An' I 'magin' I is young agin, an' Dina wid dis coon Am danc'n by de riba in de bright light ob de moon. Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

I 'magin' I is young agin, an' Dina wid dis coon — Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ; Is danc'n by the riba in the bright light ob de moon.

[Arising, he resumed that slow, grotesque dance with his shadow. And sure enough, out glided Old Dina and skipped, and hopped, and shuffled around Old Tom to his infinite delight, until, in the excitement, they both broke into a double shuffle. And now was heard a grand chorus, swelling loud, as a large company of negroes came upon the scene and joined in the dance.]

Chorus — all. Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ;

We 'magin' Tom am young agin, an' Dina wid dat

coon — Oh, niggas ; yes, niggas ; Am dance'n by the riba in de bright light ob de moon !

Shoo, dah ! [suddenly exclaimed Tom, with a gesture to enjoin silence, as he leaned eagerly forward on his cane, and peered into the gloom in the direction of the cottage.]

You niggas, git away fum hea', quick ! D' you hea' me ? Fo' de lo'd, da comes de Miss Lilly, sart'n, sho ! [The negroes all quickly roll their eyes in the direction indicated by Tom ; and with broad grins and suppressed tee-hees, shyed and shuffled away with apish antics and every form of grotesque attitude.]

[Exeunt company of negroes.

Oh, here you are, you dear, dear, dear old Uncle Tom ! [exclaimed a lovely, fair-haired girl of seventeen summers, in a silvery voice, twirling by the ribbons her pretty straw hat as she bounded into view.]

Oh, how glad, glad, glad I am to see my. old play-fellow once more ! [she continued, placing her little, white-gloved hand into his great, black paw].

Lo'd bress yo' heart, honey [ejaculated the old black man, delightedly, pressing the little hand to his lips with infinite delicacy and tender respect].

Wha 's you done come fum now ? Fo' de lo'd, chile, I 's jis dy'n kase I 's so glad to see de little Miss Lilly, sho 'nuf, back hea' ! Bress de good lo'd ! [continued the faithful old creature, slapping his knee as was his wont to testify his pleasure, and fairly squirming with excess of joy] —

Golly ! But it do tickle dis ole nigga, sho, to see dem eyes once agin a-fo' I dies ! An' so de Miss Lilly an't done gone 'n fo'got Ole Tom a'ta all ? Ugh ?

Forgotten you, Uncle Tom ! If [exclaimed the lovely girl, a slight shade passing over her beautiful face] —

Do you not know that my recollections of you are associated with all that is brightest and sweetest in life? Then how could I forget you ?

No, no, chile; bress de sweet life. I knowed you neba could fo'git Ole Tom. But [added the kind-hearted old negro, his voice a little thick with emotion] — it 's done gone twelve long yea's, honey, since de times ub dem happy days when Uncle Tom an' de child'n use to play all oba dese hills, an' sail de little boats down dah in de meado'-brook, and pick de wild flowas 'n de fields.

Dem was happy days, chile ; yes, dey was. [And the. old man wiped away a silent tear].

Yes, Uncle Tom ; and oh ! [she cried, clapping her hands with glee] do you remember how we used to make wreaths of them for your head ; and lead you home captive with a rope of flowers ?

Tom. Bress yo' heart, chile ; I 'membas all dat zif 't was yesterday ; an' sometimes de child'n 'd ride on de

The Tragedy of the Lost Ca?<se. 15 back ob de ole hoss, too ! Hyeah, hyeah, hyeah ! Yes, indeed ; yes, indeed !

Lillian. Oh, how sweet the memory of those unclouded days ! Ah, me [she sighed, as a flood of sweet recollections overwhelmed her], how I should love to live those years all over again !

And so should I ! [exclaimed a manly voice behind them, as Augustus Hampton came upon the scene.]

Oh ! [cried Lillian with a start, the color rushing to her cheeks, and her eyes lighting up with a thrill of pleasure as she turned with mingled timidity and childish confidence] —

Oh, dear ! [she continued, catching her breath, and instinctively laying her hand upon her heart] —

I knew who it was, though [she said coyly, yielding to his strong embrace, and pouting her pretty lips for his eager kiss. By this time the faithful old playmate, finding himself involved in such a delicate scene, and feeling that he might have outlived his usefulness, commenced to withdraw respectfully from the presence of the young folks.

Turning, he percieved a young darky standing with his arms a-kimbo, and his eyes and mouth engaged in violent competition to see which could open widest ; evidently experiencing for the first time a revelation of love in high life. Cracky ! [ejaculated the imp, in a whisper.]

You, Klack ! You, nigga ! [shouted Tom, making a dive for him] come hea', you tarnal moke ! Jis lef me kotch hold 'n dat inquisitum imp ; 'n if I don't makes de fur fly an' larn dat ah coon to stan' dah a-kimbo — you hea' me ! [But Klack had vanished long before this tirade had ended ; and poor old Tom was left to shuffle away in his wake as fast as he could, but without the least prospect of overtaking him. Augustus and Lillian laughed softly at the incident.-]

Faithful Old Tom [said Augustus, affectionately.] We shall miss him sadly when he goes to return no more. But, Lillian, I heard that you were coming, darling, and hastened home as fast as the wings of love and hope of happiness could bring me ; but I find that you have won the race.

'Tis little worth, Augustus ; if that is all [she said coquettishly.]

Aug. Tut, tut ! You know full well all else was won Ere the race of life had well begun.

But, Lillian [he exclaimed with exultant joy], how it makes my heart to stand tip-toe to see you here once more amidst the very scenes where this sweet dream of love began ! '

And is it but a dream, Augustus ? [persisted she, with tantalizing sweetness, in tones as liquid and tremulous as the music of those crystal waters that ran beside them.] Ah, then [she continued, nestling closer against his heart], may there be in life no waking.

If it is a dream, 'tis one of paradise ! [exclaimed her lover, rapturously, pressing the danity form to his heart.] But listen [he added sharply.] I fancied I heard a footstep. Ah, sir ; good evening, Mr. Rathmore ! [he continued, with a spice of irony in his tone, as a tall, dark figure, muffled in a short cloak, emerged from the deep shadow of a clump of bushes into the full light of the moon.]

Ahem ! Good evening ; beg pardon, sir [said the new. comer, cooly, raising his hat with sarcastic politeness.] I was enjoying my cigar and an evening stroll, and so chanced this way. Ahem ! A tru-ly delightful evening, especially for those who are in a tru-ly delightful position to enjoy it. It is, indeed ! [he added, bowing repeatedly, and again raising his hat with a graceful flourish as he proceeded on his way.]

A very delightful evening, sir [replied Augustus, with stern formality, touching his hat.] I trust that you, sir, are in a position to enjoy it? [he continued with the same cold, ironical tone ; for Augustus Hampton knew enough of Ralf Rathmore to feel assured that his presence there was not the result of accident.]

Thank you, sir; I think I am. Such displays of nature are quite refreshing [retorted the other, facing about, and allowing his eyes to rest insolently on the shrinking Lillian.] These rustic scenes are tru-ly charming in their native simplicity.

Quite true, sir ; especially to a native simpleton.

Gentlemen [cried Lillian, pale and trembling with fear under that vague presentiment of evil peculiar to delicate organizations] : Will you be kind enough to desist from this ? Augustus [she continued in a tone of gentle entreaty], will you please take me to the house? Good evening, sir [she added coldly, inclining her head slightly to Rathmore as she moved away.]

I crave your pardon, my lady [replied the latter with a mocking leer], for having so rudely disturbed you in your astronomical observations. I hope no other wandering sat ellite or vapory meteor may come to circulate in your charmingly charmed and charming vicinity, the harbinger of ill ; hugh — hugh ! So, good night. But hold : What troop of wierd, fantastic forms is this that comes this way with jingling bells to tickle the ears of night ? Oh, ho [he added aside] : I know them well ; 'tis the Gnome of Weyer's Cave, and her spectral crew. Fair lady [he continued, addressing the lovely Lillian], there comes a mystery who can mystery unveil ; mayhap she can unravel your knotty thread of life, and read your destiny. Farewell ! [And the tall, dark form of Ralf Rathmore glided away into the black shadows of the night.] Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, came the sound of tinkling bells ; jingle, jingle ; tinkle, tinkle ; here they come : mules and cows, and dirty children ; horses, dogs, and ragged men ; wagons full of pots and pans, bags and baggage, beds and bedding, babes and women ; one promiscuous dirty muddle and squalid huddle of wandering gipsy life. On a white ass in the middle rode the Gipsy Queen —

Tall and thin ; grizzled locks and cheeks sunk in ;

And eyes that burned like fire :

Her toothless mouth, save here and there,

As if to add a hideous air,

A blackened fang on which to hang

Her shriveled lips, —

Looked less like that of human kind,

Than the wild creation of a frenzied mind,

Or insatiate beast of prey ;

Starting from her shaggy brows like some old snag,

O'er the slimy lips of the hideous hag, Her nose hooked round and nearly reached Her upturned chin.

Clutching her rein with her long claw, as she appeared upon the scene, she came to a halt and slipped to the ground with surprising agility. Peering into the face of the shrinking Lillian, the old crone croaked —

Say, say, lady fair :

Can you tell us where we are,

Wand'ring in the night ?

Off, — off, ye phantoms, there :

Vanish in the misty air ;

Here we find a happy pair

Who may set us right !

Hoo — hoo — hoo, hoo !

In hollow accents running through

The shadowy throng or motley crew— -

Might is right ; and following in her train,

'Round and 'round we'll come and go,

Through the carnage, wreck, and wo ;

And when 'tis done, and lost and won,

'Round and 'round we'll come again !

Then croaked the crone in a strange, sepulchral tone —

In the whirligig of time,

When the Fates avenge a crime ;

When in battle ring and rattle

The devil's chains in hideous chime ;

When the storm rolls long and far,

Bending the gates of hell ajar, — And belching flame in heaven's name, The legions damned march forth to mar With fire and sword the face of nature ; Then indeed is little heed Paid to beauty, worth, or age !

So, lady fair ; take heed ; beware !

Danger's in the trembling air !

War, war ; wo, wo ; Tarry not — but go !

Have done with this, old lady ; what meaning may there be in all this mummery? [demanded Augustus, half laughing and half seriously.] Tell us what you want, and then be gone.

Tell ye? And for what? [she cried.]

Yet I can tell ye that will make your blood run cold ! Yea, yea, lady gay ; and lordly gentleman though you be ; As I wander to and fro, / know ; / see ; Even so — even so.

Say! [she cried, with a sudden fierceness, that made them both recoil.] Hast thou a sire, fair sir? — or thou? [she continued, pointing her long bony finger at the frightened girl]—

Living or dead ; what e'er be said ; Can ye say it — yes or no ?

A sire? Infernal wretch, would you insinuate? [hissed Augustus between his teeth, as he glared like a tiger on the horrid hag.] Shall I tear your rotten carcass limb from limb?

Away, you slimy reptile ; or by the sacred name of her you would revile, I'll thrash the earth with your p6isonous skin as long as there is a shred left of it ! [But scarcely had he uttered the words ere a score of glittering blades flashed in the moonlight, and the dark forms of the gipsy crew surrounded them with menacing gestures and savage scowls.]

Stay your wrath, young master, and learn a lesson from your own vile tongue [croaked the crone, as she waved her hand slightly to disperse the savage crowd.] Folly is the father of your words, since you place thy meaning on the things /say.

I meant no aspersion on thy mother's name,

For you 'tis more the shame

To curse the old and lame.

But hark : whom you revile has been your friend

When all the signs did only ill portend,

In times and times, and dark of moons —

When bloody red it hung low in the murky sky

Close to your star of destiny — 't was I — e'en I

Who broke the spell, and saved you from the jaws

of hell !

And for what ? But it matters not ; Yet take you this word of warning : list — Wandering, wandering over the earth, With curses deep, and thirsting for revenge, One seeks — and seeks but to destroy.

Who seeks? Seeks what? [exclaimed Augustus, impatiently ; for he was strongly impressed, despite himself, by what the old creature said.]

So may ye ask ; and so find out. Yet will I say — thy father! [cried the hag, stretching her long finger towards Augustus with a tragic air.]

Aug. Father ! Forsooth ; I have no father, hag !