In 1859 we had a visit from two old friends of our family—a distinguished Southern Senator and the Secretary of War[18]—both accustomed to swaying multitudes by the power of their eloquence—which lost none of its force and charm in our little home circle. We listened with admiration as they discussed the political issues of the day—no longer a subject uninteresting or unintelligible to us, for every word was of vital importance. Their theme was, The best means of protecting our plantation homes and firesides. Even the smallest children now comprehended the greatest politicians.
Now came the full flow and tide of Southern eloquence—real soul-inspiring eloquence.
Many possessing this gift were in the habit of visiting us at that time; and all dwelt upon one theme—the secession of Virginia—with glowing words from hearts full of enthusiasm; all agreeing it was better for States, as well as individuals, to separate rather than quarrel or fight.
But there was one[19]—our oldest and best friend—who differed from these gentlemen; and his eloquence was gentle and effective. Unlike his friends, whose words, earnest and electric, overwhelmed all around, this gentleman's power was in his composure of manner without vehemence. His words were well selected without seeming to have been studied; each sentence was short, but contained a gem, like a solitaire diamond.
For several months this gentleman remained untouched by the fiery eloquence of his friends, like the Hebrew children in the burning furnace. Nothing affected him until one day the President of the United States demanded by telegraph fifty thousand Virginians to join an army against South Carolina. And then this gentleman felt convinced it was not the duty of Virginians to join an army against their friends.
About this time we had some very interesting letters from the Hon. Edward Everett—who had been for several years a friend and agreeable correspondent—giving us his views on the subject, and very soon after this all communication between the North and South ceased, except through the blockade, for four long years.
And then came the long dark days—the days when the sun seemed to shine no more; when the eyes of wives, mothers, and sisters were heavy with weeping; when men sat up late in the night studying military tactics; when grief-burdened hearts turned to God in prayer.
The intellectual gladiators who had discoursed eloquently of war around our fireside buckled their armor on and went forth to battle.
Band after band of brave-hearted, bright-faced youths from Southern plantation homes came to bleed and die on Virginia soil; and for four long years old Virginia was one great camping-ground, hospital, and battlefield. The roar of cannon and the clash of arms resounded over the land. The groans of the wounded and dying went up from hillside and valley. The hearts of women and children were sad and careworn. But God, to whom we prayed, protected us in our plantation homes, where no white men or even boys remained, all having gone into the army. Only the negro slaves stayed with us, and these were encouraged by our enemies to rise and slay us; but God in his mercy willed otherwise. Although advised to burn our property and incited by the enemy to destroy their former owners, these negro slaves remained faithful, manifesting kindness, and in many instances protecting the white families and plantations during their masters' absence.
Oh! the long terrible nights passed by these helpless women and children, the enemy encamped around them, the clash of swords heard against the doors and windows, the report of guns on the air which might be sending death to their loved ones!