The soldier was arrested and imprisoned. Later the prisoner was tried and acquitted,—his own colonel argued in his defence,—and completely sobered, he made a good soldier. The prompt act of the commanding officer was salutary. There was no more trouble—no more muskets loaded with inflammable stuff, no more yams flavored with brandy.
When the colonel was attending the session of Congress, Theo, not yet ten years old, was often mounted on a barrel, in his little linen blouse, to drill the Third Virginia! He had studied military tactics, Hardee and Jomini, with his father. Lying before me as I write is his own copy of Jomini's "L'Art de la Guerre," in which he proudly wrote his name. An event of personal interest was the presentation to the colonel of a blue silken flag, made by the ladies of Petersburg. The party came down the river in a steamboat, and I have before my reminiscent eyes an interesting picture of my colonel, as he stood with his long hair waving in a stiff breeze, listening to the brave things the dear women's spokesman said of their devotion to him and to their country. This flag is somewhere, to-day, in that country, but not in the home of the man who had earned and owned it. It is of heavy blue silk; on one side the arms of the state of Virginia, on the other Justice with the scales. In the upper left-hand corner is the word "Williamsburg," room being left for the many other battles in store for the young colonel.
Things were going on beautifully with us when I one day received a peremptory official order to change my base—to leave Smithfield next morning before daybreak! The orderly who brought it to me looked intensely surprised when I calmly said: "Tell the colonel it is impossible! I can't get ready by to-morrow to leave."
"Madam," said the man, gravely, "it is none of my business, but when Colonel Pryor gives an order, it is wise to be a strict constructionist."
My colonel had returned suddenly; when I, in an open wagon, was on my way next morning at sunrise to the nearest depot, he and his men were en route to the peninsula. They gave McClellan battle May 5 at Williamsburg,—"Pryor and Anderson in front,"—captured four hundred unwounded prisoners, ten colors, and twelve field-pieces, slept on the field of battle, and marched off next morning at their convenience. My colonel personally ministered to the wounded prisoners, and General McClellan recognizes this service in his "own story." After this he was promoted, and my bristling eagles retired before the risen stars of the brigadier-general.
The news of his probable promotion reached me at the Exchange Hotel in Richmond, whither I had gone that I might be near headquarters and thus learn the earliest tidings from the peninsula. There he joined me for one day. We read with keen interest the announcement in the papers that his name had been sent in by the President for promotion. Mrs. Davis held a reception at the Spotswood Hotel on the evening following this announcement, and we availed ourselves of the opportunity to make our respects to her.
A crowd gathered before the Exchange to congratulate my husband, and learning that he had gone to the Spotswood, repaired thither, and with shouts and cheers called him out for a speech. This was very embarrassing, and he fled to a corner of the drawing-room and hid behind a screen of plants. I was standing near the President, trying to hold his attention by remarks on the weather and kindred subjects of a thrilling nature, when a voice from the street called out: "Pryor! General Pryor!" I could endure the suspense no longer, and asked tremblingly, "Is this true, Mr. President?" Mr. Davis looked at me with a benevolent smile and said, "I have no reason, madam, to doubt it, except that I saw it this morning in the papers;" and Mrs. Davis at once summoned the bashful colonel: "What are you doing lying there perdu behind the geraniums? Come out and take your honors."
Following fast upon the battle after which General Johnston ordered "Williamsburg" to be painted on his banner, my general fought the battle of "Fair Oaks" or "Seven Pines"—and in June the Seven Days' battle around Richmond. The story of these desperate battles has been told many times by the generals who fought them. "Pryor's Brigade" was in the front often; in the thick of the fight always. I myself saw my husband draw his sword, and give the word of command "Head of column to the right" as he entered the first of these battles.
I spent the time nursing the wounded in Kent and Paine's Hospital in Richmond, and have told elsewhere the pathetic story of my experience as hospital nurse. For the needs of that stern hour my dear general gave himself—and his wife gave herself. Every linen garment I possessed, except one change, every garment of cotton fabric, all my table-linen, all my bed-linen, even the chintz covers for furniture,—all were torn into strips and rolled for bandages for the soldiers' wounds.
When the fight was over, a gray, haggard, dust-covered soldier entered my room, and throwing himself upon the couch, gave way to the anguish of his heart—"My men! My men! They are almost all dead!"