The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson DavisDixon, Thomas, Jr.
History
The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis
Dixon, Thomas, Jr.
Davis, Jefferson, 1808-1889 -- Fiction; Historical fiction, American; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Into the faces of the foe who had demanded unconditional surrender he
hurled the defiance of an unconquered and unconquerable soul. He closed
with an historical illustration which lifted his audience to the highest
reach of emotion. Kossuth had abandoned Hungary with an army of thirty
thousand men in the field. The friends of liberty had never forgiven nor
could forgive this betrayal.
"What shall we say," he cried, "of the disgrace beneath which we should
be buried if we surrender with an army in the field more numerous than
that with which Napoleon achieved the glory of France, an army standing
among its homesteads, an army in which each individual is superior in
warlike quality to the individual who opposes him!"
When the tumult and applause had died away did he realize in the secret
places of his heart that the spirit of the South had been broken by the
terrible experiences of four years of blood and fire and death? His iron
will gave no sign. To him the manhood of the Southern soldier was
unconquerable, his courage dauntless forever.
Six months after Sherman's sword had pierced the heart of the South from
Atlanta, Lee's army in the trenches before Petersburg had reached the
end of their endurance. Lee wired Davis that his thin line could hold
back Grant's hosts but a few days and that Richmond must fall. His men
were living on parched corn.
The President hurried to the White House and slipped his arm around his
wife.
"You must leave the city, my dear."
"Please let me stay with you," she pleaded.
"Impossible," he answered firmly. "My headquarters must be in the
saddle. Your presence here could only grieve and distress me. You can
take care of our babies. I know you wish to help and comfort me. You can
do this in but one way--go and take the children to a place of safety--"
He paused, overcome with emotion.
"If I live," he continued slowly, "you can come to me when the struggle
is over, but I do not expect to survive the destruction of our
liberties."
He drew his small hoard of gold from his pocket, removed a five-dollar
piece for himself, and gave it all to his wife together with the
Confederate money he had on hand.
"You must take only your clothing," he said after a moment's silence.
"The flour and supplies in your pantry must be left. The people are in
want."
He had arranged for his family to settle in North Carolina. The day
before his wife left, he gave her a pistol and taught her trembling
hands to load, aim and fire it.
"The danger will be," he warned, "that you may full into the hands of
lawless bands of deserters from both armies who are even now pillaging
and burning. You can at least, if you must, force your assailants to
kill you. If you cannot remain undisturbed in your own land make for the
coast of Florida and take a ship for a foreign country."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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