During that journey the young officer addressed me but twice; the first time to offer me a glass of water, and the second to tell me a piece of news that shocked me in double force. As we approached Macon, my husband had endeavoured to prepare me for whatever the future might hold for us. He was a prisoner, he said, and though self-surrendered, I must not be alarmed if we should find a phalanx of soldiers waiting us at the depot. The picture thus conjured had already made me sick at heart, when my husband, excusing himself, went forward into the next car for a few moments. A short time afterward Lieutenant Keck appeared. Approaching me he said, with some hesitation, “Mrs. Clay, I have some sad news for you!”
My husband’s previous words suddenly rushed over me. He had been preparing me for something he knew but dared not tell me! In a moment, in my mind’s eye, I saw a gibbet. “Great God,” I cried. “What is it? Will they hang my husband?”
“Don’t be frightened, Mrs. Clay,” our guard answered. “Don’t cry! Your chief was arrested yesterday!”
“My chief,” I echoed. “You mean General Lee?”
“No!” was his response, “Mr. Davis! He is now at the Lanier House, in Macon!” The loosening of the tension to which I first had been keyed was so great that I was scarcely able to utter a comment, nor had I recovered from the shock when the train pulled into Macon. Notwithstanding my husband’s brave counsels, the news of Mr. Davis’s arrest added a hundredfold to our depression. When I told Colonel Phillips and Mr. Clay, who shortly returned, my husband’s face grew graver. “If that is true,” he said, “my surrender was a mistake. We shall both perish!”
In an indistinct way I felt my husband to be right; and surely after events demonstrated how nearly truly he had prophesied. The almost instantaneous appearance of Mr. Clay and Mr. Davis as prisoners produced a confusion in the press statements and telegrams that flew over the country, and coloured the feeling of the public to such an extent that those in high places who were seeking sacrificial victims were enabled, without exciting a protest, to overlook the fact that Mr. Clay, scorning arrest, had confidently and voluntarily committed himself into the Government’s hands, to court its fullest investigation. “The arrest of Clement C. Clay,” was the heading under which my husband’s courageous act was buried in so far as it might be; and so generally was the fact of his voluntary surrender overlooked, that a Southern historian, whose books have been circulated among schools, took up the phrase and incorporated it among the “historic” facts which children con.
Arrived at Macon, we found a single transfer wagon at the station. To this we were conducted, and our party of four, with our grips and valises, completely filled the vehicle. As we drove away from the station I felt much as must have felt the poor wretches in the French Revolution as they sat in the tumbrels that bore them to the guillotine.
We drove at once to the residence of our friends, Colonel and Mrs. Whittle, whence Colonel Phillips proceeded to General Wilson’s headquarters to deliver my husband’s letter announcing his surrender. It was a beautiful afternoon. The trees were in full foliage and the air delicious with sweet odours of Southern blossoms. Dusk was approaching as, without previous announcement, we drove up to the Whittle home. The family were seated on the veranda. With them was our brother, J. Withers Clay. As they recognised us they rushed down the steps to meet us, full of eager questioning.
“What does it mean?” they cried. “Why have you come here?” and every eye was full when my husband answered, “I have surrendered to the United States Government. Allow me to present my guard, Lieutenant Keck!” Never shall I forget how dear Mrs. Whittle (who was slightly deaf), with eyes full of tears, reached out her hand to that representative of our triumphant antagonists, as if, by a forbearing kindness, she would bespeak his favour for my husband.
As we entered the house, we were all in tears, and Colonel Phillips, glad of an excuse to leave the painful scene, hastened to deliver his message to the General in command. Returning in the course of an hour, he reported General Wilson as approving Mr. Clay’s course. He sent word that he was awaiting instructions in regard to Mr. Davis’s party, “Whom, I presume, you will accompany. Meanwhile, I request that you will not talk of the surrender!” He further directed that Lieutenant Keck be sent immediately to him. I think this young soldier had a tender heart, for, seemingly touched at our sorrowful situation, he lingered about a moment as if unwilling to leave us without a farewell. Seeing his hesitation, I offered him my hand and thanked him for his humane treatment of my husband, which, I assured him, I should ever remember. If his eyes, or those of others to whom he was dear should see this acknowledgment they will know I did not speak lightly.