Chapter XVIII: Part 18

At the time of General Stoneman's raid on the north of Richmond, General Pettigrew was ordered to the protection of that city, and shortly afterwards took position at Hanover Junction. His brigade subsequently made part of the Army of Northern Virginia, and accompanied General Lee into Pennsylvania. At the battle of Gettysburg he was in command of Heth's Division, and won many laurels. His division was greatly cut up. The loss of his brigade in killed and wounded was so heavy as almost to destroy its organization. He himself was wounded by a ball which broke one of the bones of his hand. He regarded it so little as not to leave the field. Moving afterwards with General Lee to Hagerstown and the Potomac, it devolved upon General Pettigrew, on the night of the 13th and the morning of the 14th of July, to assist in guarding the passage of that part of the army which recrossed at Falling Waters. About nine o'clock in the morning of the latter day, having been in the saddle all night, General Pettigrew and other officers had thrown themselves upon the ground for a few moment's rest, when a party of Federal cavalry rode into their midst. In the _mêlée_ which ensued, General Pettigrew was shot, the ball taking effect in the abdomen and passing through his body. When the enemy had been repulsed, he was taken up by his sorrowing soldiers and carried across the river some seven miles into Virginia, along the track of the army. Upon the next day he was carried some fifteen miles further, to the house of Mr. Boyd at Bunker Hill, where he received every attention of which his situation allowed. Upon General Lee's expressing great sorrow for the calamity, he said that his fate was no other than one might reasonably anticipate upon entering the army, and that he was perfectly willing to die for his country. To the Rev. Mr. Wilmer he avowed a firm persuasion of the truths of the Christian religion, and said that in accordance with his belief he had, some years before, made preparations for death, adding, that otherwise he would not have entered the army. He lingered until the 17th, and then at twenty-five minutes after six in the morning, died, quietly and without pain. The expression of sympathy for his sad fate was universal. Private soldiers from other commands, and distant States, vied with his own in repeated inquiries after his condition. Upon its way to Raleigh, his body was received by the authorities and by the citizens everywhere with all possible respect and attention. On the morning of Friday, the 24th of July, the coffin, wrapped in the flag of the country, and, adorned with wreaths of flowers and other tributes of feminine taste and tenderness, lay in the rotunda of the Capitol, where, within the year, had preceded him his compatriots, Branch and Anderson. Later in the day the State received his loved and honored remains into her bosom.

It was a matter of great gratification to North Carolina when this son, after an absence of a few years, gladly returned to her service. She views his career in arms with a just pride. She will ever reckon him among the most precious of her jewels; and will hold him forth as the fittest of all exemplars to the coming generations of her young heroes. Chief among his triumphs will it be reckoned that in the midst of his elevation and of the high hopes which possessed his soul, he so demeaned himself as to secure a place, hallowed by grief, in many an humble heart throughout North Carolina. His name is to be pronounced reverently and with tears by the winter fireside of many a hut; and curious childhood will beg to have often repeated the rude stories in which soldiers shall celebrate his generosity, his impartiality, his courtesy, and his daring. It is true that many eyes which flashed with enthusiasm as their favorite urged his gray horse into the thick of the battle, are forever dull upon the fatal hills of Pennsylvania; but this will render his memory only the more dear to the survivors; what of his fame was not theirs originally, they will claim to have inherited from the dead around Gettysburg.

If this story has been properly told, little remains to be said by way of comment. A young man of very rare accomplishments and energy, fitted equally for the cloister of the scholar and for the field of battle, has been snatched from our midst. Admirably qualified to be of assistance to the country as a soldier or as a statesman, General Pettigrew has been suddenly removed at the very commencement, as it were, of his career.

Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, neque ultra
Esse sinent.

Although what he has achieved is sufficient for fame, that which impresses the observer most forcibly is that such vast preparation should, in the course of Providence, be defeated of an opportunity for display at all commensurate with what seemed its reasonable requirements. Under the circumstances, his death looks like a prodigious waste of material. It adds a striking illustration to that class of subjects which has always been popular in poetry and in morals, whether heathen or Christian. It appears very clearly that the Ruler of all things is under no necessity to employ rare talents and acquirements in the course of His awful administration, but, in the crisis of great affairs, can lay aside a Pettigrew with as little concern as any other instrument, even the meanest.

Upon some fitting occasion, no doubt, his friends will see that the public is furnished with a more suitable and detailed account of the preparation he had made to do high service to his generation. It will then be better known that no vulgar career of ambition, and no ordinary benefit to his country, had presented itself to him as worthy of the aims and endowments of James Johnston Pettigrew.

Mrs. Spencer's sketch was written in 1863 and published in the _Fayetteville Observer_. It will also be found in her _Last Ninety Days of the War_, as an appendix. Other sketches since written may have added opinions, but very few facts.

The stranger may ask, What has this young man done that he should be placed by the side of Davie, Macon, Murphy, Badger, and Ruffin? In intellectual grasp he was the equal of any of them--probably the superior of all. As an original thinker, as a practical investigator in new and untried fields, it does not appear what he might have been.

He was on the crest of the highest wave of Southern valor and patriotism as it swept over the mountains of Pennsylvania.

In Longstreet's assault, in the third day's fight at Gettysburg (which some Virginia historians, with amusing vanity, call "Pickett's charge"), Pettigrew's command, Heth's Division, bore the brunt of the enemy's resistance. Five of the North Carolina regiments following Pettigrew had more men killed than Pickett's fifteen. His own brigade (four regiments at Gettysburg) carried into Longstreet's assault about fourteen hundred and eighty men; its loss in killed and wounded was four hundred and forty-five.

This same brigade, Pettigrew in command, held the pivot of the first day's fight, but at a fearful cost. Out of the twenty-two hundred engaged it lost six hundred and sixty killed and wounded.

In this brigade was the famous Twenty-sixth North Carolina Regiment, under Harry K. Burgwyn, which lost in the first day's fight five hundred and eighty-eight men killed and wounded out of a total of eight hundred and in Longstreet's assault one hundred and twenty of the remnant, the greatest loss and the greatest percentage of loss of any regiment in either army in any battle during the Civil War. Its gallant colonel (Burgwyn) was among the last of fifteen color-bearers who fell with the flag in their hands.

In the first day's fight Pettigrew was engaged with the famous "Iron Brigade," in which was the Twenty-fourth Michigan, facing the Twenty-sixth North Carolina in the open field at close range, gradually getting closer as the Federals slowly retired through field and woods for an hour and a half, until finally, and before the Twenty-fourth broke, they were within one hundred feet of each other, at which range they continued for twenty or thirty minutes. Captain J. J. Davis (afterwards Associate Justice of our Supreme Court) was an eye-witness and participant. He says: "The advantage was everywhere with the Confederate side, and I aver that this was greatly, if not chiefly, due to Pettigrew's Brigade and its brave commander. The bravery of that knightly soldier and elegant scholar, as he galloped along the line in the hottest of the fight, cheering on his men, cannot be effaced from my memory."

After this frightful day's work he was chosen to lead Heth's Division in Longstreet's assault. And though wounded in this assault by a grape-shot through his hand, he it was who, on the retreat of Lee's army, was chosen to command the rear guard, which consisted of his own shattered brigade and another. This was the duty that Napoleon assigned to Marshal Ney, "the bravest of the brave." And it was in the discharge of this duty that Pettigrew lost his life.

Dr. W. H. Lilly, of Concord, N. C., an eye-witness and the physician who was with General Pettigrew when he got his death-wound, at my request gives me a short account taken from his diary kept at the time:

"General Pettigrew was carrying his wounded hand in a sling.... On the night of July 13th we started on our march to the river. It was raining, and very dark, so that we proceeded very slowly. On the morning of the 14th, General Pettigrew, with his and General Archer's Brigades, was left as rear guard while the wagons and artillery were crossing the river on the pontoon bridge. While our men were lying down a large body of cavalry appeared in our rear. A squadron from the main body came riding up to our line. They were at first thought to be our men retiring before the main body of the advancing enemy. When near us a small United States flag was recognized, and they were in our midst before we fired on them. General Pettigrew's horse threw him, as he had only the use of one hand. He then began to snap his pistol at one of them, who turned and shot him in the abdomen. The General's pistol did not fire, as the powder was wet from the heavy rain. Nearly the entire squadron was killed or captured. We put General Pettigrew on a stretcher and carried him over the river at once. I advised him to remain in a house, and assured him that his only chance for life was in his being entirely quiet. He refused, saying he would rather die than fall into the hands of the enemy. We brought him in an ambulance to Bunker Hill and put him into Mr. Boyd's house, where he died at 6:30 A. M. on the morning of July 17th."

Why was it that this young man (who rarely went into a fight that he did not get hit) was preferred for responsible and dangerous commands before the officers trained at West Point? He had the genius for war and the spirit of a hero-martyr.

In the blood of his crucified cause was written the mightiest protest ever filed for the judgment of posterity against the class legislation, the centralization and the aggrandizement of the General Government in copartnership with the preferred and protected States--a copartnership out of which has been spawned a still more unholy alliance with the corporations and moneyed institutions which have their roots in those States and in foreign countries.

Not in blood, we hope, but nevertheless bravely and patriotically, let the young men of this day and generation strive to free our Union from the domination of domestic traitors and entangling alliances with foreign foes.

I have selected two short extracts from his book, _Spain and the Spaniards_, as giving a hint of his style and habits of thought. The book was intended for private circulation among his friends, and was written, doubtless, with the usual speed of young authors. It indicates considerable learning and research, but its arrangement is somewhat crude and its style not always sufficiently careful and clear. One might well wish that he had devoted his life to literature, but his talents were so varied and versatile it is hard to say where he would have most excelled.

* * * * *

THE CHARACTER OF THE BRITISH.

"All this talk (that our western civilization and government is nothing but a development of English ideas) is beginning to make the Europeans believe that we consider ourselves under some obligations to sympathize with and sustain Anglo-Saxonism, the real truth being that there is a far greater sympathy between the French and us than between their neighbors and us. We are essentially democratic; they abhor and detest the idea. The most miserable creature in England would spurn liberty if accompanied by equality; for he thinks there must be some poor devil, more miserable than himself, over whom he can tyrannize. We acknowledge and are in favor of securing to every one his just rights in the political system; whereas, exactly the contrary holds in the Anglo-Saxon, who follows the old parable of giving to him that hath and taking from him that hath not even that which he hath. The universal tendency is to yield power to those above and to keep the lower class pressed to the earth. I, therefore, see little to justify the attempt of Mr. Bright to transplant our institutions into England. He forgets that the Americans--it is useless to investigate the causes why--are a race of higher and more delicate organization, and can be entrusted with liberty because they can appreciate it. The common Englishman would only covet the privilege of suffrage in order that he might sell his vote at its market value. He needs a sort of master, and delights in having one. Universal suffrage in England, with due submission, seems to me the craziest idea that ever entered into the brain of a statesman. But Mr. Bright has a meagre following, for the English people know themselves too well to indulge in such a Utopian experiment. Not content with this, they kindly volunteer to lecture us upon the errors of our system of society--for it is a difference of society as well as of government--and pronounce republicanism a failure because we prefer to confine government within the strictest limits necessary for the objects of its institution, and perhaps find King Log more suitable for the purpose than King Stork. Even Mr. Macaulay has favored us with a "preachment," founded upon such a strange confusion as to seem to belie the aphorism that history is wisdom teaching by experience, and that its votaries should consequently be the wisest of statesmen. England is a conglomeration of monopolies. The land is a monopoly of a few thousands; the government of a few hundreds. The whole number of capitalists does not exceed a few millions. All below is a toiling, ignorant, vicious, discontented multitude, who know not one week where they will find bread for the next. Such is their system, and were America like England, Mr. Macaulay would be justifiable in supposing the cause of republicanism hopeless. But what class in America enjoys a monopoly of the pleasures of life? Is not every avenue open to the most unfriended capacity? Do not all receive the benefits of education? Can not, and have not, the poorest boys occupied the Presidential chair? Have our great statesmen, our millionaires, been, for the most part, the children of even competency? Owing to the equality which reigns throughout our ideas and institutions, is it not in the power of every honest laborer to make provision against the contingencies of old age, and do not most of them make such provision? Whence, then, is to come this army of grim, despairing, famished workmen, who, having nothing, hoping nothing, without past or future, are to wage an eternal warfare against the order of society? Is there, then, no middle ground between a savorless communism and the despotism of capital? Are there no checks and balances in nature? Do freedom, equality, education, an honorable inculcation of industry effect nothing? It is provoking to hear such solemn inconsequences from a really great man.

The disposition, too, to place a money value upon everything, the real cause of their difficulties, is peculiar to the Anglo-Saxons, and an anomaly in the present age of the world. In the military profession, where, of all others, individual merit should be the sole passport to distinction, commissions are still bought and sold. Throughout the country money is imperatively required for every position of eminence. The records of the House of Lords contain the strange case of a duke who was expelled for no other crime than his poverty. Men of the first abilities are deterred from accepting the peerage because they have not amassed money enough to save them from the humiliating and disgraceful position of a poor gentleman. We Americans like money, not because it is money, or because it brings position or respect, but because it gratifies bodily desires. It would be thought an astonishing thing with us if the Presidential Electors were to inspect the pockets of the candidate rather than his head and his heart; or if, in 1848, Mr. Cass had been recommended on account of his wealth, or General Taylor had sold out his commission--things perfectly consonant with Anglo-Saxon ideas. Yet the greatness of England is due in considerable part to this very state of affairs, and any attempt to alter it may involve the downfall of her power. The natural rulers are the aristocracy--and the Anglo-Saxon gentleman is certainly one of the best qualified persons in Europe to govern Anglo-Saxons--but all below bear the impress of an inferior class, a strange combination of servility with tyranny. That there should be any real sympathy between the great body of the two nations is as little to be desired as expected.

Having thus spoken of the want of sympathy between us in the weaker points of character, justice requires me to confess that there is an equal absence of resemblance in the virtues. The Englishman certainly does possess bulldog courage. His officers may be ignorant of the science of war, but he, nevertheless, fights to the last, nor is he subject either to the exhilaration of success or the depression of defeat. He is conservative by nature and abhors humbugs and humbuggery. The middle classes, and particularly the country gentleman, are worthy of their position. The men of this rank are true and the women virtuous. Reserved in intercourse and unamiable toward their own countrymen, they seem to be courteous to foreigners and even to each other when the social barrier is broken through; but these do not compose the nation. In discussing national relations it is not the merits and demerits of one class alone that are to be considered, but the bearing of the whole.

The increase of steam and the facility of communication and the little leaven of Anglo-Saxonism unfortunately left among us, has of late years caused many Americans to look up to England as the _mother country_, as the phrase goes. Though, perhaps, not one in ten of those who use the expression so frequently has any great amount of the much prized fluid in his veins. The manner in which the homage is received beyond the water depends very much upon the state of relations with France. As the one goes up, the other goes down. The difference between the conduct of the English toward America now, and its conduct in 1850, is astonishing. Then France was torn internally, scarcely able to maintain domestic tranquillity, and powerless for any offensive action. Europe was just beginning to stagger weakly along, as if from a bed of sickness. England and Russia, alone, of the great powers, had stood the storm unbent. Under this state of things America was a presumptuous youngster, to be snubbed upon every opportune occasion. The Yankees (as they persist in calling the whole nation) were described in Europe as lank, nasal-twanging barbarians, very good for accumulating money and manufacturing wooden nutmegs, but worthy only of a place in the kitchen of the civilized world. The Brussels-carpeted parlor, Christendom, was not to be defiled with their presence. The newspapers never wearied of ringing the changes upon American shortcomings. Our self-government and liberty were held up as empty bubbles on the point of bursting. The plain and unflattering truth being that the English have a profound contempt for us, and it is impossible to blame them for it, when we remember the servility and utter abnegation of manhood that characterize so many of us in the presence of a live lord. They have eagerly embraced every opportunity of kicking and cuffing us, yet we whine at their feet; how could they do otherwise than despise us? Since that time, however, certain changes have taken place in the world. The distracted French Republic has given way to a powerfully organized empire, with a chief capable of planning, and an army and navy capable of executing any enterprise, however gigantic. The first warning given of this change was in 1851, on the Greek question, when the President of the French Republic checked Lord Palmerston, and gave England to understand that her course of proceeding in foreign domineering must be altered or a war with France would follow in a fortnight. We all remember the salutary effect of that warning, and Palmerston's capital "bottle-holding" speech. The doctrine of a balance of power upon the ocean as well as the land has been again spoken of in high places. The ghost of Waterloo, from being a source of unmingled pride and gratification and boasting, has come to cause as many terrors as that of Banquo. An unexpected consequence has been that the manner of speaking of America has altered apace. It is "our cousins beyond the water" now, and "Brother Jonathan." An American is appealed to and asked whether he will allow the "mother country" to be crushed, the "Protestant religion to be destroyed," etc. All this happened before, and if the government of Louis Napoleon were supplanted by a weak monarchy, the present good feeling of "our dear cousins" would disappear as rapidly as their fears.

In truth, opposition to the advancement of the United States, whether material or intellectual, is the normal condition of England. We have suffered from it ever since the foundation of our government, and will continue to do so, except when the fear of invasion causes a temporary change in her policy; for selfishness, an utter, unholy and inconceivable desire to sacrifice the happiness and prosperity of every other country to her own even most trifling advantage, is her invariable rule of action. The English quarrel among themselves about the length of a bishop's gown, or the cut of a guardsman's hat, or great constitutional questions, but there is never a difference of action on this point; and any statesman who dared raise a voice in behalf of justice and honor in foreign relations could not be returned from a single constituency in England. Witness poor Bright and Cobden in the Chinese war. Woe to any nation that trusts her friendship.

* * * * *

AN EVENING AT SEVILLE.

About nine o'clock in summer, the whole of Seville issues forth to enjoy the evening air on the Plaza Isabel, which is the favorite promenade at that hour. So, following the current, I found myself in a large parallelogram, surrounded by stately buildings in the modern style, and half-filled with an innumerable throng of all classes, some seated, some walking. Most of the men were smoking and most of the women fanning themselves, with occasional intermixtures of conversation; but the great occupation of every one is to look and be looked at....

A public promenade is indispensable to every Spanish city, however small, and every Spaniard is sure to pass there some portion of the week. Particularly is this the case in Andalusia and Valencia. The unbroken clear weather, continuing during a large part of the year, converts the occasional constitutional stroll into a daily habit, and an afternoon or evening walk is as much a matter of course as attendance at mass. Fortunately for strangers, they have thus, during spring and summer, an opportunity for seeing a considerable portion of the population without the necessity of resorting to letters of introduction, which involve the sacrifice of more time than a passing traveler can spare. Seville is the city where this, as all other national customs, is seen in its greatest perfection....

The night was Spanish, and who can describe the glories of a Spanish summer night on the banks of the Guadalquivir? The mellow lustre of the moon seemed to have overflowed the earth, and the blue vault of heaven had given even to the stone buildings around an appearance of liquid silver. It was as though the air itself had a visible tangible substance, and we were floating upon the bosom of an enchanted ocean. The lamps served but for ornament, and stood like little points of burnished gold. Not a cloud obscured the sky. Odoriferous breezes from the south wafted gently over, as if fearing to embrace too roughly the fair cheeks that sought their wooing. A quadruple row of chairs offered repose to the indolent or weary, and from time to time some young lady would take compassion upon a score of admirers, by remaining where all might approach within sound of her voice; but the more interesting part of the assemblage was generally to be found on the promenade.

The beauty of Spanish women has ever been a subject of admiration to all who are endowed with a perception of the lovely. Yet, while acknowledging its irresistible power, there is nothing so difficult as to explain the fascination which it exercises; for, unlike the rest of their sex, the daughters of Andalusia owe nothing to those artificial processes which may be said to form a part of the female education elsewhere. Their taste in dress is excellent, when combined with simplicity, as is generally the case; for they have by nature very little disposition to the variety of colors, which appears to be the ruling passion of Parisian circles. The universal costume in winter, and the usual one out of doors in all seasons, is a dark colored skirt called a _basquiña_, fitting close around the waist and extending to the feet, which are thus concealed. It is sometimes kept in place by leaden pellets affixed to the border. The same innate sense of delicacy, or, perhaps, an intuitive knowledge of the weakness of men in believing no charms equal to hidden charms, preserves them from those fearful exposures of neck and shoulders, which so shocked the Japanese. A delicate satin slipper encases a foot that would not crush a daisy. From the top of the comb, if one be worn, gracefully fall the mantilla's folds across a gently budding breast, where it is confined by the fingers of the wearer's left-hand, or at times the veil is thrown forward over the face.

From the hair, massed above the temples, stealthily peeps a rose, as if hesitating to venture its humble beauties beside such loveliness. Two curls--_guedejas, caracoles de armor_--bear it company. A fan completes her costume. Thus armed, the maids of the Guadalquivir go forth to conquer the world.

The use of the black veil seems traditional in Spain, since it is mentioned by the Roman geographers as a part of the ancient costume existing in those provinces which had not fully adopted the dress of the conqueror; and they describe it as frequently thrown forward over the face in the same style.... The mantilla is peculiarly becoming to the Spanish style of features, while the French hat presents the most odious and hideous contrast conceivable; the former lends additional attractions; the latter destroys those which already exist. One may be insensible to everything else, but the mantilla is irresistible. A _basquiña_, a Cinderella slipper, a mantilla or a veil, a rose and a fan, are all that any Andaluza needs to bring the world to her feet.

But the fan! the magic fan! who shall describe its wonderful powers? Who can sound the depths of its mysteries? Every movement of this potent wand is fraught with happiness or misery. In their hands it positively speaks, and its gentle recognitions are far more winning than any assertions of the tongue. It is said to have a language, a sort of alphabet of its own, but that is doubtful. Its utterances are of the magnetic character, which need no interpretation, and are felt rather than learnt. The art of managing it was always to me an unfathomable science, and though I embraced every opportunity of becoming a proficient, and actually took two formal lessons, I failed utterly of success. It must be said, however, that my instructor had learnt by intuition, but unfortunately was not able to teach by the same method. I was always told there was only one way of opening it, yet there are certainly five, for the theory is almost as difficult as the practice. But having, by dint of hard study, acquired, as you fondly imagine, the requisite theoretical knowledge, you desire to see it embodied in action. Your instructor shows how the fingers are placed. You are then told to do "so"; whirr! goes the fan, and it is all over before your eyes have caught the first movement. A gentleman present at my discomfiture, consoled me by saying that he would not respect a man who could acquire the art; that in men's hands it was a practical instrument for putting the air in motion. The ladies certainly do not so regard it.

I had been apprehensive lest this costume, rendered so poetical by the descriptions of travelers and the dreams of romancers, were not the true secret of the admiration which I had formerly carried away across the Pyrenees, and that it was a reflected, semi-poetic, semi-romantic, at all events, unsubstantial conception. Such is not the case. On the present occasion the prevailing color, in accordance with the season was white, and the mantilla was replaced by a simple lace veil, so that there is certainly some external attraction independent of dress. I attribute it to the combination of personal beauty, such as the world cannot surpass, with a grace of movement, an innate, inalienable elegance of manner, which no education can give and no words describe. An Andaluza is born, not made. Not too tall and never dumpy (horrible word), her person is so exquisitely proportioned that, without some measure of comparison, you would form no opinion as to her real size. An elegant fullness preserves her alike from the scrawny penury of the English or the corpulency of the Italians. Her lofty brow justifies her sparkling wit, and the delicate organization of her feelings and intellect is in harmony with the finely chiseled features. Luxuriant masses of dark glossy hair, parted slightly on one side, and nobly arched eyebrows, are a fit setting to a rich southern complexion, not of sickly yellow, but of a clear olive tinge, through which the timid blood, with every emotion, mantles to the surface. The pride of her beauty is the large, lustrous, almond-shaped, velvety eye, half covered with silken lashes, as if to screen her admirers from the danger of being consumed; but when aroused into activity, flashing forth pride, interest, inexhaustible love, with a fire more irresistible than that of a thousand suns. Then it is that, with an imperious wave of the fan, she bids you plunge into a maelstrom of vipers, and you obey.

There is a widely diffused, but very erroneous belief among us that every Spaniard has perforce black eyes and a dark complexion. Such is far from being true, even in Andalusia. Ladies of the better class, who are not exposed to the sun or wind, have beautifully clear complexions, though brunette. In Ronda, blue eyes form the majority, and they are by no means uncommon in other provinces. But the Spanish blonde is still a Spaniard, and her type of beauty very different from the insipid combination which often passes under that name in the north. There is the same smothered fire, the same deep expression in the eye, the same richness of complexion, which, in union with raven tresses, form an exquisite picture. Light-haired persons, _rubias_, are rarer, and of course much admired to look at, though every one falls in love with their dark-haired rivals. Of the luxuriance and elegance of their hair the ladies are justly proud, and no pains are spared to render it as beautiful as possible. The time devoted to this object is sacred in all classes, and if, in response to an inquiry or request, the ominous reply is heard, "_hombre! estamos ocupadas con el pelo_," it is useless to remain. Nothing short of another invasion of the Moors could arouse them. During the civil war, Zumalacarregui, or Merino, for it is narrated of both, placed death for the men and loss of their hair for the women, upon the same footing, and found them equally efficacious punishments.

Spanish girls are taught to walk gracefully, too, as all girls should be, and since the narrowness of the streets prevents the general use of carriages, and the arms of gentlemen are seldom offered, and never accepted, they avoid falling into the tottering shuffle, which is produced by the opposite customs. The walk of the Seville ladies is something peculiar to Andalusia. That they take steps is firmly believed because required by the anatomical construction of mankind, but in their case the belief is the result of induction, not of ocular perception. They glide over the earth as though supported by unseen hands, and disappear from your sight ere you can believe that they are actually moving.

The Andalusian foot is a marvel, both for size and beauty. A lady will wear with ease the slipper of an ordinary girl of fourteen. If any artificial means are used, the pressure must be very slight, as the appearance is perfectly natural, notwithstanding the fact that they seldom adopt any other means of locomotion. The development of the English _understanding_ is a subject of perpetual wonderment on the Guadalquivir, where they are accustomed to compare its covering to a twelve-oared boat.

The graceful walk of the Sevillians is not more peculiar to them than the noble carriage of the head, due, doubtless, in some degree, to the absence of those fragile yet cumbrous ornaments which force others to assume a stiff and constrained position. It gives them an air of haughtiness by no means disagreeable, however, as you are quite ready to admit their unapproachable superiority before they assert it. Every Andaluza has two points of beauty--fine eyes and hair. Then she may have a good complexion, and she is almost certain to be graceful. If to these she unite wit and cultivation, who are so daring as to deny her preeminence? Progress, perhaps mere change, is desirable in many things in Spain, but that Heaven may preserve her fair daughters from the hand of innovation is the prayer of native and foreigner alike. It is scarcely possible, that the best laid schemes of any power on earth could effect an improvement.

WILLIAM D. PENDER.

BY W. A. MONTGOMERY.

Among the glorious number of heroic spirits who laid down their lives for this pre-doomed undertaking [the secession of the Confederate States] not one was more conspicuous for courage and loyalty, and but few, if any, for skill and leadership, than the subject of this sketch, General William Dorsey Pender. He was born in Edgecombe county, N. C., on the 6th of February, 1834, at the country home of his father, James Pender, Esq. His paternal ancestry is of ancient English stock, the name being as old as English history itself. The first of the family to come to America was Edwin, who, in the reign of Charles II., settled near Norfolk, Virginia. A descendant of the same name, grandfather of General Pender, removed from Norfolk to Edgecombe, on Town Creek, where he owned and died possessed of large landed interests and slaves. On one of these plantations, inherited by his father, General Pender was born. His mother was Sarah Routh, a sister of the mother of the late Hon. R. R. Bridgers, and the daughter of William Routh, Esq., of Tidewater, Virginia.

General Pender lived where he was born until he was fifteen years of age, when he entered, as a clerk, the store of his brother, Mr. Robert D. Pender, in Tarboro. This employment was distasteful to him from the first. The martial spirit was already strongly developed in him, and the opportunity soon presented itself for him to begin a military education and training. He entered the Military Academy at West Point as a cadet on the first of July, 1850, having been recommended as a suitable candidate by the Hon. Thomas Ruffin, who was then the member of Congress from his district. The friendship of Mr. R. R. Bridgers, which lasted through life, procured for him the appointment. He was graduated in 1854, standing nineteenth in his class. In this class were G. W. Custis Lee, Stephen D. Lee, J. E. B. Stuart and other distinguished military men. As cadet he was modest and unassuming in his intercourse with his fellows, respectful to his instructors and tractable to the discipline of the institution. Upon his graduation he was assigned to the First Artillery as Brevet Second Lieutenant and the same year was made Second Lieutenant of the Second Artillery. In the year 1855 he was transferred, at his own request, to the First Regiment of Dragoons, and in 1858 was promoted to a first lieutenancy. From the time he entered the dragoons he saw service in the field in all its phases, camp, frontier, and scouting; fighting in New Mexico, California, Washington and Oregon. He was engaged in many skirmishes, and in as many as three battles with the Indians--one of the engagements being with the Apaches at Amalgré Mountain, on March 20, 1856; another at the Four Lakes, September 1, 1858, and the other on the Spokane Plains, September 3, 1858. He took a conspicuous part in these engagements, and was mentioned with credit in the reports of them. Lieutenant Lawrence Kip, in his _Army Life on the Pacific_, narrates the following incident which occurred at the battle of Spokane Plains: "Lieutenant Pender, while in the woods, returning from the rear, where he had been on duty connected with ordering up the balance of the troops, was suddenly attacked by an Indian chief. To his dismay, the Lieutenant discovered that his sabre had become entangled in the scabbard and would not draw. Quick as thought one hand grasped the savage's arm, the other his neck, and in this manner, hugging him close and galloping into ranks, he lifted him from his horse and hurled him back among the men, who soon dispatched him." He was made Adjutant of the First Dragoons November 8, 1860, and served with that rank, with the headquarters at San Francisco, until January 31, 1861, when he was detached and ordered to report at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, on recruiting service.

On the 3d of March, 1859, he had married Miss Mary Frances Shepperd, daughter of the Hon. Augustine H. Shepperd, at Good Spring, the country-seat of the bride's father, near Salem, North Carolina. Shortly after the marriage he returned to his command, then in Washington Territory, his wife accompanying him and remaining with him until they returned to the east, arriving at Washington in the latter part of February, 1861. There they remained a few days, and on the 3d of March, the day before Mr. Lincoln was inaugurated, they left for North Carolina. This short stay at Washington at this juncture was a crisis in the young officer's life. He had seen a sectional feeling arise in the army. He now found the people divided. The Confederate Government was already established; troops had been organized and drilled in the South and Fort Sumter invested. He was perplexed as to what he ought to do; whether to continue in the service of the United States or resign his commission; for in case of war he could not take part against the South, and this would be required of him if he held his commission in the army. He became satisfied, after considering carefully the situation and observing closely the tendency of affairs, that war was inevitable, and from his knowledge of the character and temper of the two sections he knew the war would be a terrible one. He determined to cast his lot with his people of the South, and on the 21st of March resigned his commission in the army, and immediately offered his services to the Confederate Government at Montgomery. He was appointed captain in the artillery service of the provisional army, but was shortly afterwards sent by the government to Baltimore to take charge of the Confederate recruiting depot at that place.

The time has passed when the motives of the men who resigned their commissions in the armies of the United States and took service afterwards in the Confederate armies can be impugned. Impartial history has pronounced their conduct natural, consistent, and sincere. In this connection it is interesting to recall a sentence from the memorable address of Mr. Edmunds in the United States Senate in 1883, on the life and character of Senator B. H. Hill: "The notion of fidelity to one's own State, whether her cause be thought wise and right or not, is almost a natural instinct; and whether it be defensible on broad grounds or not, who does not sympathize with it?"

In the first week of May, 1861, when North Carolina began to organize her volunteer troops, Captain Pender returned and entered her service at the "Old Fair Grounds," near Raleigh, Governor Ellis appointing him to drill and instruct the officers of the companies of the First Regiment--the Bethel Regiment. After that regiment was dispatched to Virginia he was assigned to duty as Commandant of the Camp of Instruction at Garysburg, and, upon the formation there of the Third Regiment of Volunteers, was elected its colonel on the 16th of May, 1861. At this time he was twenty-seven years old, about five feet ten inches in height, well formed and straight; graceful in his carriage; with large, lustrous, dark eyes, dark-brown hair, an olive complexion, head almost faultless in shape, a mouth clear cut, and lips firmly compressed, and a voice soft, low, and distinct. The combined dignity and ease of his manner charmed all who came about him. The sweet modesty of his unassuming bearing was so striking that it won all to him; and this characteristic is always mentioned, even now, by those who knew him, as one of his most attractive charms; and it underwent no diminution in after years when he had won such distinguished military honors. His modest and unassuming character was not always understood by those who did not know him well. The following is an instance: He had fought more than half a dozen pitched battles under General Jackson before the two ever met socially. One day General Jackson said to Major Avery, who was well acquainted with them both: "What sort of a man is General Pender? I'm embarrassed at his never having been to see me. I know he is a fine soldier, gallant and skillful on the field, and his troops are well disciplined. I never fail to be impressed with his camps; they are always clean, orderly and comfortable. I've made it a rule, though, never to recommend an officer for promotion unless I have a personal and social acquaintance with him, and this will some day embarrass me."

However, from the beginning of his career to the end of it he knew the value of discipline, and though of a kind and gentle disposition he was firm in the management of his men. Throughout the entire period of his service the camps of his troops always showed the marks of order and system and the men the effects of training and discipline.

General W. G. Lewis, in a letter to Mr. D. W. Gilliam, says, after noting a visit paid by himself to General Pender shortly after the battle of Fredericksburg: "He received me most cordially and courteously, and I had a very pleasant visit and one of profit to me, as I saw plainly in his camps the results of true military discipline and careful attention from headquarters. His camp was a model of cleanliness, regularity and good order; his sentinels and guard saluted in strict military style; all officers wore the badges of their rank. I was particularly struck with this, as it was not, by far, universal in the Army of Northern Virginia." Discipline was enforced, as he often said, for the comfort and safety of his men, and because the fiery gallantry of the Southern soldier would be uselessly expended unless it was systematically and scientifically directed; and he used to say that discipline was a protection to the good soldier, in that it forced the doubtful one to the performance of his duty, and thus reduced the work and the peril of the former.

Colonel Pender, with his regiment, was near Suffolk, Va., until after the 15th of August, 1861, when he took command of Fisher's famous Sixth Regiment at Manassas. He was appointed colonel of the Sixth by Governor Clark, on the unanimous petition of its officers. That appointment, at that time, was the highest compliment that could have been paid to a North Carolinian. None but those who are old enough to remember those days can appreciate what honor it was to be accounted worthy to command the men whom Fisher led at Manassas; though that battle was full of all sorts of blunders, strategical and tactical, in the Confederate commanders, and turned out a barren victory, the troops behaved admirably, and this regiment as well as the best.

The Confederate army occupied about its original position near Manassas until March, 1862, when it was transferred, under the command of General Joseph E. Johnston, to the Peninsula to meet McClellan's "On to Richmond" from that direction. As the Federals advanced the Confederates retired upon Richmond, taking position on the south side of the Chickahominy, and from two to five miles on the east and north of the city. In the last week in May two Federal corps, Keyes' and Heintzelman's, crossed that stream and entrenched themselves across the Williamsburg stage road, near Seven Pines. General Johnston ordered the attack of the 31st May on the enemy's left. General Keyes, in his report of the battle, says: "The left of my line was all protected by white oak swamps, but the right was on ground so favorable to the approach of the enemy and so far from the Chickahominy that if Johnston had attacked an hour or two earlier than he did I could have made but a feeble defense, comparatively, and every man of us would have been killed, captured or driven into the swamps or river before assistance could have reached us." Owing to misunderstandings and jealousies between the Confederate general officers only five brigades of the twenty-three which were ordered for the attack on the enemy's left were used in that attack, and some of them fought knee and waist deep in mud and water in a white oak swamp trying to get at an enemy entrenched on high ground. There was great gallantry on the part of the Confederates, and the carnage was dreadful. General D. H. Hill, who made the morning attack with his division, after numerous repulses in and around the swamp finally carried the enemy's position from the front--Couch's Division of Keyes' Corps falling back northward to and beyond Fair Oaks, a station on the Richmond and York River Railroad. From a point just outside Fair Oaks, on the north, there is an intersection at right angles of the Nine-Mile Road to Richmond and a road from Grape Vine Bridge on the Chickahominy to the station. On the Grape Vine Bridge road, about a thousand yards from Fair Oaks, Couch's Division halted and formed a line facing toward the south, information having been received that Sumner's Corps had crossed the river at Grape Vine Bridge and was advancing to the assistance of the Union troops. About 5 o'clock in the afternoon Colonel Pender, with his Sixth Regiment, arrived at Fair Oaks from toward Richmond, on the Nine-Mile road, in advance of Whiting's Brigade. Line of battle having been instantly formed facing to the south, the regiment, without support and under direct orders from either General Whiting or General G. W. Smith, went rapidly forward. After an advance of probably a third of a mile without coming up with the enemy, Colonel Pender discovered a large force of Federals in the act of forming a line from column by companies, near the Grape Vine Bridge road and well to his left and rear. They had seen him in his perilous position, and were preparing to capture or destroy him. There really seemed no chance of escape; but as quick as lightning, and with coolness equaling his bravery, the order "By the left flank, file left, double quick!" rang out in as clear and musical a voice as ever was heard on battlefield. The old regiment, the best drilled and disciplined in the army of Northern Virginia, moved as if on parade, and before the enemy had completed their formation it was upon them, pouring volley after volley into their very faces; and under the suddenness and fury of the attack the foe staggered and reeled, while the glorious soldier withdrew his men and rejoined his brigade, which was just coming up. Our hero was here like Jackson in quickness of comprehension and promptness of decision; he was like Soult in his tactical skill; he was like Junot in his fiery onslaught. There never was a more courageous and skillful movement made on any field. In the attack by Whiting's Brigade, which almost immediately followed upon Colonel Pender's affair, the brigade was repulsed and the troops retired in great disorder. Colonel Froebel, of General Whiting's staff, who was present, in his report of the battle says that Colonel Pender reformed the broken regiments and restored the line by his courage and coolness. Mr. Davis was present and witnessed Colonel Pender's behavior, and said to him on the field, "_General_ Pender, I salute you!" General Stephen D. Lee thus writes: "I was on the battlefield of Fair Oaks; saw him (General Pender) and conversed with him before and after the battle. He expressed his great satisfaction to me that he was literally made a general on the field of battle for gallant and meritorious conduct just performed, and said that it reminded him of such cases in European armies, where such recognitions of soldierly conduct were made."

Three days afterwards he was put in command of Pettigrew's Brigade (Pettigrew having been wounded and captured), which he led through the Seven Days' fight around Richmond. His commission as brigadier-general was handed to him July 22, 1862, to date from June 3. His brigade was composed of North Carolinians, the Thirteenth, Sixteenth, Twenty-second, Thirty-fourth, and Thirty-eighth Regiments, and General Pender commanded it until he was promoted.