61. CHAPTER LXI.
MOUNT VERNON.
The President, well informed of the movements of the
enemy, encamped his army in the vicinity of Alexandria,
and then repaired to Mount Vernon, where his head-quarters
were established. Alice and Edith, and Senator Langdon
had preceded him thither; and as the dusk of evening
fell upon the scene, Randolph, ever punctual to a minute in
all his appointments, alighted from his horse.
“Everything reposes in quiet here,” said the aged Senator,
clasping the hand of the President as he stepped upon
the long piazza.
“And the twilight of this summer evening,” said Edith,
presenting the President a rich bouquet, “is scented with
the perfume of roses.”
“And you, my Marble,” said Randolph, turning to his
pale and silent daughter, “have nothing to utter, nothing
to give me?”
“Have I not, father?” said Alice, throwing her arms
around her parent's neck and kissing him.
“But why these tears?”
“I thought, father, that on this consecrated ground, and
in the precincts of the sacred dust of the Father of his
Country, Liberty might be taking her flight from earth
for ever! That the last of the Presidents, on the last day of
the Republic, might be a fugitive from the despot, and
vainly seeking an asylum under the roof of Washington!”
“No. Neither my fortunes, nor the fortunes of the Republic,
have arrived at such a desperate ebb. This is not
the last night, perhaps, that a President, or a President's
daughter will tread the halls of Mount Vernon. But let us
in to tea.”
And when they were seated around the table within, the
weather being sultry and the windows raised, the cry of a
solitary whippoorwill was heard in the distance, and Alice's
melancholy threatened to return.
“I do not think I ever laughed more heartily in my life,”
said the President, during the repast, “than I have done
this evening.”
“Then I am sure I need not be sad,” said Alice, “because
if there were not some promising enterprise afoot I
think you would at least have repressed the inclination to
laugh.”
“He may laugh who wins,” said Edith.
“Then I am quite certain,” said Langdon, relaxing his
usually grave visage, “that Randolph's chief general may
laugh.”
“That is as much as to say he has won. And yet who
knows how often it may be his fate to lose? But, Mr. President,
I have a woman's curiosity to learn the provocation
of your laughter.”
“It was caused by the visage of my general, the valiant
Crook! He came to me with tears in his eyes, begging to
have a fight with the British before we retreated down the
Potomac. He said his heart was breaking, and that he
would rather die and be buried in sight of the dome of the
Capitol, than retire without a blow out of sight of it.”
“The brave Crook!” exclaimed Alice. “And, father,
may we know the response you gave him?”
“I looked very grave, and merely pressed his hand. Sir
Charles Hunt will know my determination before the hour
for his next breakfast. My wild western scouts have proved
invaluable auxiliaries. Those Missourians are as true men as
the Boons, and Kentons, and Shelbys of the last century!
Captain Fink keeps me as well informed of the movements
of the enemy as if I were in his camp.”
“And it is the purpose, then,” said Langdon, “to fall
upon Sir Charles?”
“Yes. Sir Charles leads the van, and is encamping on
this side the river, separated from the main army, and never
dreaming of the possibility of an enemy in full retreat suddenly
retracing his steps.”
“I am glad,” said Edith, “that the first battle south of
the Potomac will be with the British. It will serve to rouse
into activity all the patriotism in the country.”
“True!” said Randolph, “whether we win or lose. But
we shall win, of course—that is, at first, and until overwhelming
succors are sent to the relief of Hunt. It will be
rather a check than a battle. Then we must resume our
journey. And the probability is that they will destroy
Mount Vernon, and desecrate the tomb of Washington.”
“God forbid!” exclaimed Langdon.
“God's will be done!” said Randolph. “If, however,
such a thing should happen, it will be worth a dozen victories
to the South. The Spirit of Washington, roused from
its repose, will animate every manly breast, and there will
be such a popular outburst throughout the country as has
never yet been known.” After these words a pause ensued.
“Again the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill is heard,”
said Alice.
“It seems to come from the direction of the Tomb,” said
Edith, “as if bewailing the sad destiny of the country loved
and served so well by its founder and father.”
“Father,” said Alice, “let us go to the tomb of Washington.
This may be the last opportunity.”
“You have anticipated me. It was my purpose to take
you thither,” he continued, glancing at his watch; “and it
is the hour. And you, my friend,” said he, addressing Langdon,
“will accompany us. We will find Dr. Love, our
chaplain, awaiting us near the vault. And there you will
find your Blue Caps, Alice.”
“Indeed! I have been on the eve of asking why the
Blue Caps were not here.”
“They are in the vicinity, with muffled drums and trailing
carbines, to bury a hero with the honors of war.”
“To bury some one with the honors of war?” asked
Edith, in surprise. “Who has fallen?”
“It is General Steel, whose remains have been faithfully
transported by Crook, in obedience to the request of the
dying soldier, to Southern ground; and we shall inter them
in the vicinity of the tomb of Washington. Hark! It is
the signal.” The drum was heard, and the party of four
hastened forth to witness the burial.
Near the tomb of Washington the Blue Caps were
drawn up in hollow square, every fifth man bearing a
torch. In the centre was the newly dug grave, and beside
it the coffin. When the President, Mr. Langdon, and the
maidens arrived on the ground, they were conducted by
Major Milnor and Captain Bim within the enclosure, keeping
step to the solemn march played by the band. When
the plaintive strain had ceased, the grey-haired clergyman,
Dr. Love, read the burial service. And he took occasion
to descant on the merits of the fallen hero they were consigning
to his final rest. He was a native of the same State,
and had known General Steel from his infancy. He was
impetuous, ardent, honorable, brave, and patriotic—and if
sometimes too hasty in his resentments, he never failed to
make amends for any apparent injustice, in his moments of
cool reflection. The Dr. had baptized the General, when a
boy, and the Bishop had confirmed him. Whatever his
errors, God was merciful! The voice of the aged divine,
as he uttered the last sentences, was broken by his emotions,
and tears ran down his cheeks.
After the “dust to dust,” Bim led forward a file of
soldiers, who fired their carabines over the grave.
“Away! Away!” cried one, after the last round was
fired, and when the gravediggers were throwing in the
earth.
All eyes were turned in the direction of the speaker,
and a moment after Crazy Charlotte emerged from the
clump of trees in the vicinity.
“Who is that?” asked Mr. Langdon.
“It is a poor demented—but nevertheless a faithful
friend,” said Randolph, stepping aside, and clasping the
proffered hand of Charlotte, who still wore the theatrical
cuirass and helmet, and brandished the green spear with its
bright point of tin.
“And why is the tear in your eye, Man of Destiny?”
exclaimed Charlotte. “Why weep over the dust of Washington,
when there may be a living Washington, aye, and
more than one, in the South! Rouse, O spirit of Freedom!
and dart like an eagle upon the foe! The British lion again
pollutes the soil of the Old Dominion, the mother of States!
Away! Away! Strike him in his lair! The sons of the
South cannot be restrained. They must fight, or else never
hold up their heads again! Randolph, away! I invoke
you, at the dread hour of midnight, in the sacred presence
of Washington, whose spirit pervades the atmosphere, to
fall upon the British foe. Remember Yorktown! If
Washington had delayed until succor had come to his
rescue, think you Cornwallis would have laid down his
arms? Then rush with all your banners upon the Baronet,
who has detached himself so temptingly from the main body
of his traitorous allies!”
“Charlotte,” said the President, “who has been telling
you these things?”
“No one. I have looked with my own eyes.”
“But who taught you the art of war—or how to know
when an enemy was temptingly exposed?”
“Who? Common sense!”
“Do you hear, Langdon? and you, ladies? The triumph
of art is merely the triumph of common sense! All the
great achievements of man, by whatever process accomplished,
are but the rational conclusions of adequate causes.
You should have been a man, Charlotte, and then you
would have made a General. Sir Charles will be beaten
up in his quarters before the dawn of day. Come with
us, Charlotte, and remain with the girls until this battle be
won.”
“Willingly, if they will permit me!” said she, “for I am
weary and hungry, and my heart is sick from the scenes I
have witnessed on the green! They have erected the guillotine
near the Washington Monument!”
“What!” exclaimed Alice, “have they begun the bloody
work already, and in the precincts of the Monument?”
“Eleven members of Congress were beheaded as the
sun went down!”
“Is it possible!” said Langdon.
“Charlotte never speaks falsely,” said Randolph.
“No. I utter only what these eyes have beheld!” said
she, weeping. “One of the victims was my friend. He
never spurned the unfortunate Charlotte from his presence.”
“Who was it, Charlotte?” demanded Edith.
“A good old man. A noble Senator!”
“A Senator?” exclaimed Langdon. “Surely none remained
in the city—although I recollect several declared
they would stay—but surely, surely, they did not mean to
expose themselves—and, of all men, the one who—”
“Who, father?” demanded Edith.
“Charlotte!” said Randolph—“come with me!” and
leading her apart, he continued, “is Langdon right? Did
the one he means, persist in remaining? And was he
slain?”
“He did! He was!”
“Then, Ruffleton, may an avenging God launch His
thunders at thy head! Follow, Charlotte—but do not tell
them the worst. Leave that to me!”
Randolph, abandoning Charlotte to the interrogations of
the young ladies, who did not even suspect the one to whom
Langdon alluded, grasped the aged Senator's arm and led
him along the silent dale.
“Oh! Randolph,” said the Senator, in broken tones,
“has the despot dared—”
“The worst, Langdon! He has dared and done the
worst!”
“And Blount?”
“Yes, Blount! but do not speak so loud!”
They uttered not another word until they reached the
long piazza of the mansion, where Langdon sank in a chair,
and by the light of the moon Randolph beheld the tears
streaming down his aged cheeks.
“Father,” said Edith, coming up soon after, “what is
that I heard you say about General Blount?”
“Nothing, my child.”
“But what has happened? Why are you so cast down?”
“Alice” said Randolph, turning to his daughter, “exert
your art to prepare Edith to hear a terrible announcement.”
“Ah!” said Edith, “I am now prepared! But he was
here only a short time since, and I do not think anything
could have—”
“Nothing unfortunate has happened to General Blount,”
said Randolph.
“I thought not!” exclaimed Alice. “Oh, yes! we can
hear it, father!”
“Senator Blount—his father.”
“He!” cried Edith—“my second father, and what has
happened to him?”
“The worst—the worst thing in the world!” cried
Charlotte. “Brace your nerves—steel your heart, bonny
bride of the Southern hero. Resolve to bear it!”
“He has been taken, then!” said Edith. “But that
would not distress my father so deeply. Dead! he must
be dead! Oh, they have guillotined him! Still, still, I can
bear it! But God will avenge it!”
“Yes, my dear child,” said Randolph, taking her hand,
while she rested her head on his shoulder—“God will
avenge it. The monster shall pay the penalty! But come
in. I must mount and away. The time is too precious for
words. My dear friend,” he continued, as the good Dr.
Love joined them, “here is work for you among the living.
Comfort this little flock, and pray for our poor country,
whilst I am fighting for it!”
He then strode forth and mounted his steed, where several
of his aides had been awaiting him. But before he put
spurs to his horse, Captain Bim came up and begged to be
permitted to accompany him, if he were going forth to
battle. The President referred him to Alice and his major;
and then sped away in the direction of the quarters of
General Blount.
