Ten American Girls from History

by Kate Dickinson Sweetser

Well did the Spy play her rôle, as months went by; more loudly she hummed, more vacantly she smiled, and more diligently she worked to obtain information regarding the number and placing of Confederate troops, which information she sent on at once to Federal headquarters. Day by day she worked, daring loss of life, and spending her entire fortune for the sake of the cause which was dearer to her than a good name or riches—the preservation of the Union and the abolishing of slavery.

From the windows of the Libby, and from Belle Isle, the prisoners could see passing troops and supply-trains and give shrewd guesses at their strength and destination, making their conjectures from the roads by which they saw the Confederates leave the town. Also they often heard scraps of conversations between surgeons or prison guards, which they hoarded like so much gold, to pass on to "Crazy Bet," and so repay her kindness and her lavish generosity, which was as sincere as her underlying motive was genuine. Meals at the Van Lew mansion grew less and less bountiful, even meager,—not one article did either Elizabeth Van Lew or her loyal mother buy for themselves, but spent their ample fortune without stint on the sick and imprisoned in their city, while there was never an hour of her time that the Federal Spy gave to her own concerns. If there was nothing else to be done, she was writing a home letter for some heart-sick prisoner from the North, and secretly carrying it past the censors to be sure that it should reach the anxious family eagerly awaiting news of a loved one.

"Crazy Bet" loaned many books to the prisoners, which were returned with a word or sentence or a page number faintly underlined here and there. In the privacy of her own room, the Spy would piece them together and read some important bit of news which she instantly sent to Federal headquarters by special messenger, as she had ceased using the mails in the early stages of the war. Or a friendly little note would be handed her with its hidden meaning impossible to decipher except by one who knew the code. Important messages were carried back and forth in her baskets of fruit and flowers in a way that would have been dangerous had not "Crazy Bet" established such a reputation for harmless kindness. She had even won over Lieutenant Todd, brother of Mrs. Lincoln, who was in charge of the Libby, by the personal offerings she brought him of delectable buttermilk and gingerbread. Clever Bet!

So well did she play her part now, and with such assurance, that she would sometimes stop a stranger on the street and begin a heated argument in favor of the Union, while the person who did not know her looked on the outspoken little woman with a mixture of admiration and contempt. At that time her lifelong persecution, by those who had before been her loyal friends, began. Where before she had been met with friendly bows and smiles, there were now averted glances or open insults. She encountered dislike, even hatred, on every side, but at that time it mattered little to her, for her heart and mind were occupied with bigger problems.

What she did mind was that from time to time her permit to visit the hospitals and prisons was taken away, and she was obliged to use all the diplomacy of which she was mistress, to win it back again from either General Winder or the Secretary of War. At one time the press and people became so incensed against the Northern prisoners that no one was allowed to visit the prisons or do anything for their relief. Among the clippings found among Betty Van Lew's papers is this:

Rapped Over the Knucks.

One of the city papers contained Monday a word of exhortation to certain females of Southern residence (and perhaps birth) but of decidedly Northern and Abolition proclivities. The creatures thus alluded to were not named.... If such people do not wish to be exposed and dealt with as alien enemies to the country, they would do well to cut stick while they can do so with safety to their worthless carcasses.

On the margin in faded ink there is written: "These ladies were my mother and myself. God knows it was but little we could do."

Spring came, and McClellan, at the head of the Army of the Potomac, moved up the peninsula. "On to Richmond!" was the cry, as the troops swept by. It is said that the houses in the city shook with the cannonading, and from their roofs the people could see the bursting of shells. "Crazy Bet," watching the battle with alternate hope and fear, was filled with fierce exultation, and hastily prepared a room in the house on the hill with new matting and fresh curtains for the use of General McClellan. But the Federal forces were repulsed by the Confederate troops under General Lee and "drew away over the hills." General McClellan had failed in his attempt to take Richmond, and within that room freshly prepared for his use bitter disappointment and dead hope were locked.

There was great rejoicing in Richmond in this repulse of the Federal army, and even those old friends who were now enemies of Elizabeth Van Lew, could afford to throw her a smile or a kind word in the flush of their triumph. She responded pleasantly, for she was a big enough woman to understand a viewpoint which differed from her own. Meanwhile, she worked on tirelessly through the long days and nights of an unusually hot summer, meeting in secret conferences with Richmond's handful of Unionists, to plot and scheme for the aid of the Federal authorities. "The Van Lew mansion was the fifth in a chain of Union Secret Service relaying stations, whose beginning was in the headquarters tent of the Federal army. Of this chain of stations the Van Lew farm, lying a short distance outside of the city, was one. It was seldom difficult for Betty Van Lew to get passes for her servants to make the trip between the farm and the Richmond house, and this was one of her most valuable methods of transmitting and receiving secret messages. Fresh eggs were brought in from the farm almost every day to the house on Church Hill, and no one was allowed to touch them until the head of the house had counted them, with true war-time economy, and she always took one out, for her own use in egg-nog, so she said. In reality that egg was but a shell which contained a tiny scroll of paper, a message from some Union general to the Federal Spy. An old negro brought the farm products in to Richmond, and he always stopped for a friendly chat with his mistress, yes, and took off his thick-soled shoes that he might deliver into her hands a cipher despatch which she was generally awaiting eagerly! Much sewing was done for the Van Lews at that time by a little seamstress, who worked at both farm and city home, and in carrying dress goods and patterns back and forth she secreted much valuable information for the Spy, on whom the Union generals were now depending for the largest part of their news in regard to Confederate plans and movements of troops." And she did not disappoint them in the slightest detail.