The partisan leader a tale of the future |
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| 40. | CHAPTER XL. |
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 | CHAPTER XL. The partisan leader |  |
40. CHAPTER XL.
That lies like truth, and yet most truly lies.
Let us again intrude into the sanctuary of majesty.
The President is alone, as before. He has the same
air of somewhat impatient expectation. A shade of
anxious thought is on his brow, and his cheek is
flushed with some little excitement. Yet these elements
are all so mixed as to be scarcely perceptible;
and were he conscious that we are looking at him,
they would be completely concealed. On the table
lie a number of letters recently received. Two of
them are separated from the rest. He takes up one
and reads it a second time. Let us look over him.
It runs thus:
“The wisest may be deceived; the most vigilant
may be betrayed: for the MOST trusted are often the
most treacherous.
Caution.”
“What means this?” said the President, musingly.
“Who is it that I am warned against? The
word `MOST' is underscored. Who does that point
at? Whom do I trust most? I trust nobody. But
I seem to trust; and whom most? Surely, it cannot
be he. I should, indeed, be wrong to trust to his
fidelity. But he is too wise to be false to his own
not aware of? It must be considered.”
He then took up the other letter, which I beg
leave to lay before the reader, as a specimen of the
art with which the truth may be so told as to make
others believe what is false. I recommend it particularly
to military gentlemen, reporting the results
of a battle.
November, 12, 1849.
Sir: I have the honor to lay before your Excellency
an account of the operations of the troops
under my command, since the date of my last despatch.
In pursuance of the information I had received, of
which your Excellency has been already advised, I
marched on the third inst., at the head of my own
regiment, one battalion of the 15th, a company of
artillery, and one of dragoons, to meet Douglas on
his descent from the mountains. At Jones's Ford,
on Staunton river, I encountered him, when about
half his force had crossed over. I attacked him
immediately; and, after a sharp conflict, drove him
across the river. By the advice of Col. Mason, I
left the artillery and draggons on the north bank, to
protect our rear, placing them under the command
of that distinguished officer.
Pressing hard upon the rear of the enemy, we
came up with him just as he had fallen back on the
I regret to say that, at the first fire, my horse fell
under me, imprisoning my leg by his fall. At the
same moment a ball struck my head, and I came to
the ground insensible.
You will judge my astonishment, when, on recovering
my senses, I found that all my men near
me had thrown down their arms, and that I was in
the hands of the enemy, who assisted me to rise. I
immediately called to my men to resume their arms;
but am sorry to inform you that I was not obeyed.
As I had not surrendered, I was seized and hurried
away to the house of a ring-leader of these rebels,
where I was confined. From that time I had no
means of receiving any information on which I could
rely concerning the events of the day, as I had no
intercourse with any but the rebels.
Two days ago I was so fortunate as to make my
escape. Returning to this place, I find my camp,
which had been left under the command of Major
Wood, beleaguered by the rebels, and a treaty for
surrender in full progress. I rejoice that I have
returned in time to prevent a consummation so disgraceful.
It is now midnight, and a small party has been
sent out to endeavor to surprise the leader of this
banditti. In the meantime all things are put in
readiness for a sortie in the morning. I shall not
of the success of these operations.
Two o'clock, A. M.—My scouts have come in,
and brought in the hostile chief, who proves to be
the last man in the world whom I could have wished
to find in arms against the generous master who so
well deserved his grateful devotion. I speak of that
unfortunate youth, whose fault, (I must not use a
harsher term,) nearly twelve months ago, dishonored
our common name and parentage. Your Excellency
will appreciate the struggle in my bosom, between
a sense of duty and the foolish but inextinguishable
relentings of nature. I have determined to put an
end to this painful strife, and to take security against
my own weakness, by sending him on immediately
to you, without awaiting the result of the meditated
sortie in the morning. He therefore travels in custody
of the bearer of this letter, under guard of a
sergeant and four men.
Having returned to the camp this night, after
tattoo, I am unprepared to give any account of our
loss, or that of the enemy. I have nothing authentic
but the lamented death of Col. Mason, who fell
fighting bravely.
I beg leave to express an humble hope, that your
Excellency will be pleased to attribute the partial
failure of my enterprise to the unfortunate wound
which put me hors du combat, at a moment, up to
us for nearly half a mile and across the river.
I remain, sir, with the most profound respect,
your Excellency's most humble and faithful servant,
“A worthy gentleman,” said the President, folding
up the letter. “A most worthy gentleman! Let
any man doubt henceforth, if he can, that the only
way to judge in advance of what a man will do, is to
ascertain his interest. See how readily it settled this
nice point of casuistry—this delicate question of
conflicting duties. Trust! Yes, I will trust; but
not as fools do. I will trust no man's honor, but
every man's interest. The experience of my whole
life has taught the lesson, and every day confirms it.
Here comes a new example,” added he, as the doorbell
sounded, and was echoed by the single stroke in
the room.
The door opened, and the honorable Mr. Baker
appeared. His figure had lost nothing of its deferential
bend; his step nothing of its creeping, cautious
tread; his countenance nothing of its abject
servility. But there was more of anxiety and less of
hope, with a slight appearance of peevish dissatisfaction.
“You are very good, my dear sir,” said the
President. “You are always almost present to my
all officers like you.”
“I humbly thank your Excellency,” replied the
Judge. “Were not your approbation precious to
me, I might be tempted perhaps to look more than I
ought to public opinion. Perhaps I do so, as it is;
for though my duties are clearly necessary to the
good of the State, I find it hard to bear the loud
reproaches of a misjudging multitude, that reach me
through a factious press.”
“Let it not reach you, my dear sir. The storm
does but rage without. Why need you hear it when
it touches you not. Shut your ears and sleep soundly;
or open them only to the more pleasant tones
that issue from loyal lips. I take care not to know
what is said of me by malcontent scribblers; but I
hardly flatter myself that I should preserve my equanimity,
if I read all that is written.”
“It is sometimes impossible not to hear,” said the
Judge; “and there are words which convey reproach,
which, though uttered in a single breath,
reach the heart. I can never, I fear, make myself
proof against such a phrase as `judicial murder.' ”
“But you must find consolation in your own
enlightened conscience, my dear sir. Some feeling
must be expected when the edge of the law falls on
victims whose offences demand punishment, and yet
are such as those the world calls honorable and upright
are most likely to commit.”
“The misfortune is,” replied the other, “that it
is only for such offences, and on such victims, that
my office seems to be made to act; and when the
curse rises up against me, loud as well as deep, and
uttered and echoed on every side, I pray your Excellency
to pardon me, when I say, that I find its
honors and emoluments a poor compensation.”
“It will be some relief to you, then,” replied the
President, “that you are like to have a subject of a
different sort to act upon. One whose crimes offend
against the laws of God as well as man; and who is
not more obnoxious to State policy, than to the
detestation of all good men, and of none more than
yourself.”
“Of whom is your Excellency pleased to speak?”
asked Mr. Baker.
“Of no other than that young fellow, Trevor,
whose ill luck snatched him away from our hands,
when perhaps he was not quite ripe for punishment.
But he has since made himself perfect in crime, by
becoming the leader of a desperate benditti. In
short, he is no other than the famous Captain Douglas,
and is now in my power. I think you will find
in his case a fair set-off against some of the mortifications
of which you complain; and think no more
of denying your services to the public, at least until
he has fulfilled his destiny.”
The effect of this communication on the mind of
the honorable gentleman, was such as the President
Trevor he bore a mortal antipathy. In the case of
Douglas, this was rendered more intense by the sympathy
of a father with a favorite son. An envious
malignity was a striking feature in the characters
both of father and son; and this had been provoked
to the utmost by that unfortunate young man. Both
were sensible that the younger Baker had been in
bad odor with the public, ever since the affair at the
falls; and hence, it was not only grateful to their
malice, but to their pride, to fasten on Douglas a
stigma so dishonorable as to have relation back, and
to excuse his adversary with those who did not
know all the circumstances, for not seeking such
redress as gentlemen demand of gentlemen only.
The good humor of the Judge was now manifestly
restored, and the President went on to give him some
particulars of the late military occurrences. Douglas,
he said, was on the road, and would reach Washington
the next day. The letter, it seems, had been
brought by a soldier who had orders to outgo the
rest of the party, and ride express to Washington.
“It is well,” said the President, “that I have
this timely intimation of his approach. The custody
of State prisoners cannot be safely entrusted to any
but the military; and that of this young man must
be committed to no corps in which he had any
acquaintance. It seems that he was a universal
measures to guard against any such blunder.”
In such conversation half an hour was past, when
the Minister made his appearance. He had been
sent for, and to him the President communicated the
history of the capture of Douglas. Had he turned
an eye of close scrutiny on the favorite, at the moment
when he uttered the name, and announced the
fate of his victim, he might have seen a slight
expression of countenance, which it would not have
been easy to interpret. But this escaped him; and
he went on to direct that the true name of the prisoner
should be kept secret; that his arrival should
be watched for; and that he should be at once conducted
to a place provided for the separate confinement
of State prisoners. It was, moreover, ordered,
that a detail of officers and men for that prison should
be carefully made, so as to exclude any persons
whose loyalty was at all doubtful; and especially all
who, from former associations, could be supposed to
feel any kindness for Douglas.
Finally, it was agreed that, should he arrive in the
course of that night, or the next day, he should be
brought, on the following night, before the triumvirate,
in the room where they then were.
“You were right,” continued the President, addressing
his Minister, “when you said that this
young man had talent. The discovery of his identity
explains the marvellous organization and efficiency
capture must be fatal to their future success. They
must be powerless now that they have lost their
leader, and must soon disband. That is well. The
two regiments may now be marched from Lynchburg
to Richmond, and save us the necessity of sending a
reinforcement from this quarter. The troops there,
with this aid, will certainly be sufficient to cheek the
insurrectionary movements that we hear of in the
southern counties, and to cover the meeting of the
Legislature. Col. Trevor has certainly deserved well.
I am afraid his unfortunate wound may have occasioned
the loss of more men than we could well
spare, who seem to have surrendered while he was
insensible. But the disbanding of Douglas's corps
will, of course, set them at liberty to return to their
duty. But this takes nothing from Col. Trevor's
merit. He must be brevetted. As to Major Wood,
in the regular course he should succeed Mason; but
I must hear more of this negotiation for a surrender
of his post, before he is promoted. That affair must
be satisfactorily explained, or he will hardly escape
a court-martial.”
The President now went on to give some farther
orders, and then dismissed his guests.
| CHAPTER XL. The partisan leader | |