There I found him. It seemed strange to see the daisies growing all over the ground on which his little tent was pitched. I obtained leave to move him at once, and took him to the Spotswood Hotel in Richmond. "He wants nothing now," said kind Dr. Dean, "except some buttermilk and good nursing."
The hotel was crowded. President and Mrs. Davis were there, Mrs. Joseph E. Johnston, Mrs. Myers, wife of the quartermaster-general, and many, many more whose names are familiar in all the war histories. Everybody was on the alert and on the qui vive.
From my windows I witnessed the constant arrival of officers from every division of the army. The Louisiana Zouaves were an interesting company of men. Their handsome young French Colonel Coppens was a fine example of grace and manly beauty. He would dash up to the door on his handsome horse, dismount, run up the stairs for a word with some official, run down again, vault lightly into his saddle, and gallop down the street. No one was more admired than Colonel Coppens.
I had not visited the drawing-room often before I became aware that a bitter feud existed between the three eminent ladies I have mentioned—indeed, the Richmond Examiner gave a most amusing account of one of their spicy interviews. Jealousy and consequent heartburning had possessed the bosoms of these ladies—do they not intrude into every court and camp? And here were court and camp merged into one. Had I remained idle I should probably have ranged myself on the side of my ci-devant commanding officer, Mrs. Johnston; but matters of tremendous importance soon filled every mind and heart.
This was the last reunion of old Washington friends we were to enjoy. With some of the members of the Thirty-sixth Congress we parted at the Spotswood Hotel to meet no more on earth. Others met on the battle-field under circumstances of which they little dreamed when the "state of the country" was under discussion.
One of the warmest secessionists was L. Q. C. Lamar. His devoted friend, General Pryor, had parted with him immediately upon the secession of South Carolina. Their next meeting was at the battle of Williamsburg. This battle was fought in the woods, and the danger was enhanced by the falling boughs of the trees. Behind the shelter of a stout oak my husband found his old friend Colonel Lamar. "Oh, Pryor," he exclaimed, as the shot and shell crashed through the branches, "what do you think now of the right of peaceable secession?"
CHAPTER XIII
THE SEVEN DAYS' BATTLES
The intense heat of June 26th has been noted in many of the diaries and records of the day. I remember it because I had feared its unfavorable effect upon my husband, not yet discharged by his physicians, and now lying weak and listless upon his bed at the Spotswood Hotel in Richmond.
I was reading aloud to him the news in the morning papers, fanning him the while, when a peremptory knock at the door sent me to my feet. An ominous-looking note was handed in to "Brigadier-General Pryor." Upon reading it, my husband slipped to the side of the bed, and reached out for his cavalry boots. The note ran: "Dear General, put yourself at once at the head of your brigade. In thirty-six hours it will all be over. Longstreet." Before I realized the tremendous import of the order, he was gone.
McClellan was almost at the gates of the city. The famous "seven days' fight" was about to begin.