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Title: The Blue And The Grey: A Pre-War War Story
Author: Stephen Leacock [
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CHAPTER I
The scene was a striking one. It was night. Never had the Mississippi presented a more remarkable appearance. Broad bayous, swollen beyond our powers of description, swirled to and fro in the darkness under trees garlanded with Spanish moss. All moss other than Spanish had been swept away by the angry flood of the river.
Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph, a young Virginian, captain of the ----th company of the ----th regiment of ----'s brigade--even this is more than we ought to say, and is hard to pronounce--attached to the Army of the Tennessee, struggled in vain with the swollen waters. At times he sank. At other times he went up.
In the intervals he wondered whether it would ever be possible for him to rejoin the particular platoon of the particular regiment to which he belonged, and of which's whereabouts (not having the volume of the army record at hand) he was in ignorance. In the intervals, also, he reflected on his past life to a sufficient extent to give the reader a more or less workable idea as to who and to what he was. His father, the old grey-haired Virginian aristocrat, he could see him still. "Take this sword, Eggleston," he had said, "use it for the State; never for anything else: don't cut string with it or open tin cans. Never sheathe it till the soil of Virginia is free. Keep it bright, my boy: oil it every now and then, and you'll find it an A 1 sword."
Did Eggleston think, too, in his dire peril of another--younger than his father and fairer? Necessarily, he did. "Go, Eggleston!" she had exclaimed, as they said farewell under the portico of his father's house where she was visiting, "it is your duty. But mine lies elsewhere. I cannot forget that I am a Northern girl. I must return at once to my people in Pennsylvania. Oh, Egg, when will this cruel war end?"
So had the lovers parted.
Meanwhile--while Eggleston is going up and down for the third time, which is of course the last--suppose we leave him, and turn to consider the general position of the Confederacy. All right: suppose we do.
CHAPTER II
At this date the Confederate Army of the Tennessee was extended in a line with its right resting on the Tennessee and its left resting on the Mississippi. Its rear rested on the rugged stone hills of the Chickasaba range, while its front rested on the marshes and bayous of the Yazoo. Having thus--as far as we understand military matters--both its flanks covered and its rear protected, its position was one which we ourselves consider very comfortable.
It was thus in an admirable situation for holding a review or for discussing the Constitution of the United States in reference to the right of secession.
The following generals rode up and down in front of the army, namely, Mr. A. P. Hill, Mr. Longstreet, and Mr. Joseph Johnston. All these three celebrated men are thus presented to our readers at one and the same time without extra charge.
But who is this tall, commanding figure who rides beside them, his head bent as if listening to what they are saying (he really isn't) while his eye alternately flashes with animation or softens to its natural melancholy? (In fact, we can only compare it to an electric light bulb with the power gone wrong.) Who is it? It is Jefferson C. Davis, President, as our readers will be gratified to learn, of the Confederate States.
It being a fine day and altogether suitable for the purpose, General Longstreet reined in his prancing black charger (during this distressed period all the horses in both armies were charged: there was no other way to pay for them), and in a few terse words, about three pages, gave his views on the Constitution of the United States.
Jefferson Davis, standing up in his stirrups, delivered a stirring harangue, about six columns, on the powers of the Supreme Court, admirably calculated to rouse the soldiers to frenzy. After which General A. P. Hill offered a short address, soldier-like and to the point, on the fundamental principles of international law, which inflamed the army to the highest pitch.
At this moment an officer approached the President, saluted and stood rigidly at attention. Davis, with that nice punctilio which marked the Southern army, returned the salute.
"Do you speak first?" he said, "or did I?"
"Let me," said the officer. "Your Excellency," he continued, "a young Virginian officer has just been fished out of the Mississippi."
Davis's eye flashed. "Good!" he said. "Look and see if there are many more," and then he added with a touch of melancholy, "The South needs them: fish them all out. Bring this one here."
Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph, still dripping from the waters of the bayou, was led by the faithful negroes who had rescued him before the generals. Davis, who kept every thread of the vast panorama of the war in his intricate brain, eyed him keenly and directed a few searching questions to him, such as: "Who are you? Where are you? What day of the week is it? How much is nine times twelve?" and so forth. Satisfied with Eggleston's answers, Davis sat in thought a moment, and then continued:
"I am anxious to send some one through the entire line of the Confederate armies in such a way that he will be present at all the great battles and end up at the battle of Gettysburg. Can you do it?"
Randolph looked at his chief with a flush of pride.
"I can."
"Good!" resumed Davis. "To accomplish this task you must carry despatches. What they will be about I have not yet decided. But it is customary in such cases to write them so that they are calculated, if lost, to endanger the entire Confederate cause. The main thing is, can you carry them?"
"Sir," said Eggleston, raising his hand in a military salute, "I am a Randolph."
Davis with soldierly dignity removed his hat. "I am proud to hear it, Captain Randolph," he said.
"And a Carey," continued our hero.
Davis, with a graciousness all his own, took off his gloves. "I trust you, Major Randolph," he said.
"And I am a Lee," added Eggleston quickly.
Davis with a courtly bow unbuttoned his jacket. "It is enough," he said. "I trust you. You shall carry the despatches. You are to carry them on your person and, as of course you understand, you are to keep on losing them. You are to drop them into rivers, hide them in old trees, bury them under moss, talk about them in your sleep. In fact, sir," said Davis, with a slight gesture of impatience--it was his one fault--"you must act towards them as any bearer of Confederate despatches is expected to act. The point is, can you do it, or can't you?"
"Sir," said Randolph, saluting again with simple dignity, "I come from Virginia."
"Pardon me," said the President, saluting with both hands, "I had forgotten it."
CHAPTER III
Randolph set out that night, mounted upon the fastest horse, in fact the fleetest, that the Confederate Army could supply. He was attended only by a dozen faithful negroes, all devoted to his person.
Riding over the Tennessee mountains by paths known absolutely to no one and never advertised, he crossed the Tombigbee, the Tahoochie and the Tallahassee, all frightfully swollen, and arrived at the headquarters of General Braxton Bragg.
At this moment Bragg was extended over some seven miles of bush and dense swamp. His front rested on the marshes of the Tahoochie River, while his rear was doubled sharply back and rested on a dense growth of cactus plants. Our readers can thus form a fairly accurate idea of Bragg's position. Over against him, not more than fifty miles to the north, his indomitable opponent, Grant, lay in a frog-swamp. The space between them was filled with Union and Confederate pickets, fraternizing, joking, roasting corn, and firing an occasional shot at one another.
One glance at Randolph's despatches was enough.
"Take them at once to General Hood," said Bragg.
"Where is he?" asked Eggleston, with military precision.
Bragg waved his sword towards the east. It was characteristic of the man that even on active service he carried a short sword, while a pistol, probably loaded, protruded from his belt. But such was Bragg. Anyway, he waved his sword. "Over there beyond the Tahoochicaba range," he said. "Do you know it?"
"No," said Randolph, "but I can find it."
"Do," said Bragg, and added, "One thing more. On your present mission let nothing stop you. Go forward at all costs. If you come to a river, swim it. If you come to a tree, cut it down. If you strike a fence, climb over it. But don't stop! If you are killed, never mind. Do you understand?"
"Almost," said Eggleston.
Two days later Eggleston reached the headquarters of General Hood, and flung himself, rather than dismounted, from his jaded horse.
"Take me to the General!" he gasped.
They pointed to the log cabin in which General Hood was quartered.
Eggleston flung himself, rather than stepped, through the door.
Hood looked up from the table.
"Who was that flung himself in?" he asked.
Randolph reached out his hand. "Despatches!" he gasped. "Food, whisky!"
"Poor lad," said the General, "you are exhausted. When did you last have food?"
"Yesterday morning," gasped Eggleston.
"You're lucky," said Hood bitterly. "And when did you last have a drink?"
"Two weeks ago," answered Randolph.
"Great Heaven!" said Hood, starting up. "Is it possible? Here, quick, drink it!"
He reached out a bottle of whisky. Randolph drained it to the last drop.
"Now, General," he said, "I am at your service."
Meanwhile Hood had cast his eye over the despatches.
"Major Randolph," he said, "you have seen General Bragg?"
"I have."
"And Generals Johnston and Smith?"
"Yes."
"You have been through Mississippi and Tennessee and seen all the battles there?"
"I have," said Randolph.
"Then," said Hood, "there is nothing left except to send you at once to the army in Virginia under General Lee. Remount your horse at once and ride to Gettysburg. Lose no time."
CHAPTER IV
It was at Gettysburg in Pennsylvania that Randolph found General Lee.
The famous field is too well known to need description. The armies of the North and the South lay in and around the peaceful village of Gettysburg. About it the yellow cornfields basked in the summer sun. The voices of the teachers and the laughter of merry children rose in the harvest-fields. But already the shadow of war was falling over the landscape. As soon as the armies arrived, the shrewder of the farmers suspected that there would be trouble.
General Lee was seated gravely on his horse, looking gravely over the ground before him.
"Major Randolph," said the Confederate chieftain gravely, "you are just in time. We are about to go into action. I need your advice."
Randolph bowed. "Ask me anything you like," he said.
"Do you like the way I have the army placed?" asked Lee.
Our hero directed a searching look over the field. "Frankly, I don't," he said.
"What's the matter with it?" questioned Lee eagerly. "I felt there was something wrong myself. What is it?"
"Your left," said Randolph, "is too far advanced. It sticks out."
"By Heaven!" said Lee, turning to General Longstreet, "the boy is right! Is there anything else?"
"Yes," said Randolph, "your right is crooked. It is all sideways."
"It is. It is!" said Lee, striking his forehead. "I never noticed it. I'll have it straightened at once. Major Randolph, if the Confederate cause is saved, you, and you alone, have saved it."
"One thing more," said Randolph. "Is your artillery loaded?"
"Major Randolph," said Lee, speaking very gravely, "you have saved us again. I never thought of it."
At this moment a bullet sang past Eggleston's ear. He smiled.
"The battle has begun," he murmured. Another bullet buzzed past his other ear. He laughed softly to himself. A shell burst close to his feet. He broke into uncontrolled laughter. This kind of thing always amused him. Then, turning grave in a moment, "Put General Lee under cover," he said to those about him, "spread something over him."
In a few moments the battle was raging in all directions. The Confederate Army was nominally controlled by General Lee, but in reality by our hero. Eggleston was everywhere. Horses were shot under him. Mules were shot around him and behind him. Shells exploded all over him; but with undaunted courage he continued to wave his sword in all directions, riding wherever the fight was hottest.
The battle raged for three days.
On the third day of the conflict, Randolph, his coat shot to rags, his hat pierced, his trousers practically useless, still stood at Lee's side, urging and encouraging him.
Mounted on his charger, he flew to and fro in all parts of the field, moving the artillery, leading the cavalry, animating and directing the infantry. In fact, he was the whole battle.
But his efforts were in vain.
He turned sadly to General Lee. "It is bootless," he said.
"What is?" asked Lee.
"The army," said Randolph. "We must withdraw it."
"Major Randolph," said the Confederate chief, "I yield to your superior knowledge. We must retreat."
A few hours later the Confederate forces, checked but not beaten, were retiring southward towards Virginia.
Eggleston, his head sunk in thought, rode in the rear.
As he thus slowly neared a farmhouse, a woman--a girl--flew from it towards him with outstretched arms.
"Eggleston!" she cried.
Randolph flung himself from his horse. "Leonora!" he gasped. "You here! In all this danger! How comes it? What brings you here?"
"We live here," she said. "This is Pa's house. This is our farm. Gettysburg is our home. Oh, Egg, it has been dreadful, the noise of the battle! We couldn't sleep for it. Pa's all upset about it. But come in. Do come in. Dinner's nearly ready."
Eggleston gazed a moment at the retreating army. Duty and affection struggled in his heart.
"I will," he said.
CHAPTER V
CONCLUSION
The strife is done. The conflict has ceased. The wounds are healed. North and South are one. East and West are even less. The Civil War is over. Lee is dead. Grant is buried in New York. The Union Pacific runs from Omaha to San Francisco. There is total prohibition in the United States. The output of dressed beef last year broke all records.
And Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph survives, hale and hearty, bright and cheery, free and easy--and so forth. There is grey hair upon his temples (some, not much), and his step has lost something of its elasticity (not a great deal), and his form is somewhat bowed (though not really crooked).
But he still lives there in the farmstead at Gettysburg, and Leonora, now, like himself, an old woman, is still at his side.
You may see him any day. In fact, he is the old man who shows you over the battlefield for fifty cents and explains how he himself fought and won the great battle.
[The end]
Stephen Leacock's short story: Blue And The Grey: A Pre-War War Story
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