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　　For sheer bravado and style, no woman in the North or South

rivaled the Civil War heroine Rose O’Neale Greenhow. Fearless spy

for the Confederacy, glittering Washington hostess, legendary

beauty and lover, Rose Greenhow risked everything for the cause she

valued more than life itself. In this superb portrait, biographer

Ann Blackman tells the surprising true story of a unique woman in

history.

“I am a Southern woman, born with revolutionary blood in my

veins,” Rose once declared–and that fiery spirit would plunge her

into the center of power and the thick of adventure. Born into a

slave-holding family, Rose moved to Washington, D.C., as a young

woman and soon established herself as one of the capital’s most

charming and influential socialites, an intimate of John C.

Calhoun, James Buchanan, and Dolley Madison.

She married well, bore eight children and buried five, and, at

the height of the Gold Rush, accompanied her husband Robert

Greenhow to San Francisco. Widowed after Robert died in a tragic

accident, Rose became notorious in Washington for her daring–and

numerous–love affairs.

But with the outbreak of the Civil War, everything changed.

Overnight, Rose Greenhow, fashionable hostess, become Rose

Greenhow, intrepid spy. As Blackman reveals, deadly accurate

intelligence that Rose supplied to General Pierre G. T. Beauregard

written in a fascinating code (the code duplicated in the

background on the jacket of this book). Her message to Beauregard

turned the tide in the first Battle of Bull Run, and was a

brilliant piece of spycraft that eventually led to her arrest by

Allan Pinkerton and imprisonment with her young daughter.

Indomitable, Rose regained her *** and, as the war reached a

crisis, journeyed to Europe to plead the Confederate cause at the

royal courts of England and France.

Drawing on newly discovered diaries and a rich trove of

contemporary accounts, Blackman has fashioned a thrilling, intimate

narrative that reads like a novel. Wild Rose is an unf***ettable

rendering of an astonishing woman, a book that will stand with the

finest Civil War biographies.

From the Hardcover edition.

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　　Ann Blackman is the author of Seas*** of Her Life: A Biography

of Madeleine Korbel Albright and co-author of The Spy Next Door,

about the traitorous FBI agent Robert Hanssen. In her long career

as a news reporte***ith Time magazine and the Associated Press,

Blackman covered American politics, social policy, and the powerful

personalities that make up Washington society. She is married to

Michael Putzel. They have two grown children and live in the

nation’s capital.

　　From the Hardcover edition.

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　　Chapter 1

　　Rose’s Game

　　The summer sun beat down on a wooden milk cart rumbling along a

dirt road that stretched up the Washington side of the Potomac

River. A long, lazy cloud of yellow dust trailed from the wheels

and hung in the heavy summer air. The driver, wearing a frayed gray

frock, passed one sprawling Union army encampment after another. To

soldiers moving supply wag*** upriver to reinforce newly dug-in

positi***, the slender figure seemed but a *** farm girl

returning home from a morning of selling sweet cream and buttermilk

at the city market.

　　She was, in fact, not a country girl at all, but a beautiful,

well-bred sixteen-year-old named Bettie Duvall, on a secret mission

to Confederate territory. It was Tuesday, July 9, 1861, and the

untested troops of North and South were spoiling for their first

real fight.

　　Heading out of the Federal City through Ge***etown, Miss Duvall

rode by Camp Banks at Ge***etown Heights, headquarters of the First

Massachusetts Infantry. Some of the soldiers had left that morning,

trudging up the road to Great Falls to relieve another unit that

had lost two men, s*** by rebels from across the river. The two

were among the first casualties of war, and the city was in

mourning. The Union troops occupied themselves as best they could.

“We have received some new pants today, dark blue,” one wrote in

his diary. “Are to have blue jackets, I believe.”1 When he was

hungry, the soldier sneaked out of camp to look for apples,

gooseberries, and currants. He also picked a rose from the garden

of a departed secessionist and sent it to his parents. A few

soldiers beat the heat by taking a dip in the river. They had been

told to be ready to march at a moment’s notice.

　　All around camp, thin wisps of dark smoke curled up from cooking

fires, carrying the smell of burnt sugar to hungry soldiers. Boiled

rice with sugar sauce was being prepared for dinner. It was a

*** meal, but the men liked the sweet taste, and it was

certainly a step up from skillygalee, hard bread soaked in cold

water and fried brown in pork fat. “I must say that Uncle Sam don’t

feed his soldiers as he ought,” wrote a soldie***ho signed his

letter “C.B.L.” “Hard crackers and salt junk is not the thing for a

man to fight on.”

　　Farther up the road, the cart passed Camp Winfield Scott,

headquarters of the Second Michigan Infantry, “Richardson’s

Brigade.” It was, in the words of soldier Charles B. Haydon, “a

beautiful location,” that rose “almost to the dignity of

mountains.” There had been some fighting upriver two days before,

and the infantrymen were eager for more action. “I for one am ready

to work & give if need be all I am worth which is very little,

til the last secessionist is dead or subdued,” Haydon wrote.

　　The men’s provisi*** were poor, and theft was a problem. Disease

was worse. Measles had broken out, and the sick list lengthened

daily. Many were also suffering from severe diarrhea and bloody

flux, or dysentery, the result of their insufficient diet. When the

surgeon expressed bafflement about how to cure it, some men took to

doctoring themselves by drinking the juice of boiled blackberry

root. They knew they had to get better quickly, because they had

been ordered to pack their knapsacks and expected to move out that

night.

　　A mile beyond the camp, the cart turned sharply left and rattled

onto the loose old boards of Chain Bridge. Union artillerymen at

Battery Martin Scott, a new, two-tiered stone-and-turf

fortification overlooking the bridge, could see the cart and driver

from their outpost with its commanding, panoramic view of the

Potomac. Twelve-pounder guns mounted at the end of the bridge could

sweep the span, and one hundred feet up the hill, three big

forty-two-pounders could rake not just the bridge, but the heights

beyond. The Union cannoneers used an old stone mill on the opposite

side of the Potomac to get their range. But the cart made its way

peacefully across. No one stopped the driver.

　　Bettie Duvall continued up the road. She had left the city hours

earlier and had not even gone halfway to her uncertain

destination.

　　Despite regular reports of Confederate soldiers lurking around

their camps, Union troops controlled both banks of the river,

including the northern edge of Virginia from Alexandria below the

capital to encampments all along Arlington Heights and up to Chain

Bridge. Colonel William Tecumseh Sherman had command of the three

New York regiments and the Second Wisc***in Infantry assigned to

protect the far side of the river.

　　The weather had been intensely ***, interrupted only by severe

afternoon thunderstorms. During those brief, violent downpours,

water rushed through the soldiers’ tents like a river, soaking

knapsacks and forcing them to sleep on raised boards. Confederate

patrols fired across the river at Union encampments at night, and

the Union forces returned fire, reporting some casualties. Everyone

was on edge.

　　Bettie Duvall drove her cart up a steep hill into the Virginia

countryside. The road was narrow and badly cut by wagon wheels,

slowing her progress. While most of the Union wag*** and artillery

were behind her, the young Southerner had to look out for Yankee

scouts and pickets.

　　Not wanting to travel after nightfall, which would increase the

danger, she stopped at Sharon, a plantation on the Ge***etown &

Leesburg Road just west of the village of Langley. It was owned by

the family of her friend Lieutenant Catesby R. Jones. Jones had

resigned his post as an officer in the United States Navy and left

to join the Confederate navy when Virginia seceded from the Union

three months earlier, but the family still lived in the ancestral

home. The next morning, Miss Duvall changed into a stylish riding

habit, abandoned her humble cart, borrowed a saddle horse, and

cantered off in the direction of Lewinsville and Tyson Cross roads,

where travelers sometimes stopped in a peach grove to rest.

　　The dirt road took her past deserted wooden houses and farms with

weathered ox fences and through undulating fields of ripening wheat

and Indian corn. She headed for the village of Fairfax Court House,

some twenty miles west of Washington and only ten miles north of

Manassas Junction, the Confederate headquarters of General Pierre

Gustave Toutant Beauregard. The Louisiana native, hero of Fort

Sumter, had just arrived at Manassas from Charleston to take

command of the Confederate Army of the Potomac.

　　Near Vienna, Miss Duvall came upon a Confederate outpost and was

ordered to halt. The Confederate soldiers, whose gray jackets had

already faded to butternut by the relentless sun and yellow dust,

had dug trenches in the road and felled thick trees to slow the

Union army’s expected advance. At last, she had reached friendly

territory.

　　Miss Duvall told the pickets she had come to see Brigadier

General Milledge Luke Bonham, a South Carolina politician who days

before had been ordered to relinquish his command of the army to

Beauregard, a professional soldier. Bonham, who remained as the

general’s top aide, was at Fairfax Court House, about five miles to

the south. The soldiers escorted their charge to Bonham’s

headquarters, where she tied her horse to the bough of a tree. But

when the general learned of his visitor, he at first refused to see

her, fearing she was yet another lady spy dispatched by the

Federals to assess the strength of the Confederate army. Told that

the young woman was prepared to take her message to Beauregard

herself and also, perhaps more important, that she was “very

pretty,” Bonham relented. “I was very much startled,” he wrote, “at

recognizing the face of a beautiful young lady, a brunette, with

sparkling black eyes, perfect features, glossy black hair.” Bonham,

who seven months before had been a congressman from South Carolina,

remembered seeing Bettie Duvall in the spectator gallery of the

House of Representatives, a frequent gathering spot for Southern

ladies.

　　When she told him the content of her message and he agreed to

forward it to his commander, Miss Duvall reached back, took a tuck

comb from a chignon of long, silky hair that had been wound

gracefully around her head, and shook loose her locks. Bonham

watched spellbound as a tiny bag fell out. It was not larger than a

silver dollar and had been carefully stitched out of a torn piece

of glossy black silk, the kind used in the finest of mourning

clothes. The purse contained a slip of white pape***ith a

combination of numbers and letters written in bold handwriting with

black ink: 054 1 7 3. It was code for “Beauregard.”15 With it was a

ten-word message, also in code, with information Beauregard would

find critical: “McDowell has certainly been ordered to advance on

the sixteenth. ROG.”

　　Bettie Duvall’s mission was complete. The Confederates now knew

that Brigadier General Irvin McDowell, commander of the Union

forces around Washington, would march out to attack them in less

than one week.

　　The initials ROG belonged to Rose O’Neale Greenhow, a ravishing

and fearless Southerner and grande dame of Washington society. She

operated a Confederate spy ring in the nation’s capital, and Bettie

Duvall was one of her scouts. An engaging widow with three

daughters, including an eight-year-old who carried her mother’s

name, Rose was the heart and soul of the operation.

　　She had a passion for politics and many friends, both Democrats

and Republicans. She also had an almost reckless disregard for

danger and a fiercely independent streak. She could be manipulative

and headstrong at one moment, dripping warm Southern cha-arm the

next, each syllable melting slowly from her lips like delicate

drops of dew.

　　Now in middle age, Rose was a handsome woman who carried

...

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媒体评论

　　“Tales of Civil War spies are often full of embellished and

romanticized derring-do. Not so with Ann Blackman’s thoroughly

researched biography of Rose O’Neale Greenhow, whose remarkable

life needs no embellishment. The story of Rebel Rose, told here

with great skill and lucidity, illustrates yet again that truth is

stranger than fiction.”

　　–James McPherson, author of Battle Cry of Freedom

　　“This is a fascinating tale of intrigue and suspense. Blackman

has discovered some truly remarkable, never-before-published papers

that reveal how deeply involved Rose Greenhow was in the

Confederate cause.”

　　–Cokie Roberts, National Public Radio commentator, author of

Founding Mothers

　　“The first comprehensive story of a remarkable woman whose

passion for the Southern cause was equal to that of any soldie***ho

fought for southern independence. Well worth reading.”

　　–Jim Lighthizer, President, Civil War Preservation Trust

　　“For anyone wondering what role women played in shaping the

course of history of the United States, Ann Blackman has an answer:

Rose Greenhow. The story of Wild Rose has everything: power,

intrigue, passion, and a clever, determined woman at the center.

This is a great read.”

　　–Judy Woodruff, CNN anchor, Judy Woodruff’s Inside Politics

　　“Sexy, audacious, determined–Rose O’Neale Greenhow finally gets

her due as a power player in American history. Relive the Civil War

through the exploits of this Southern patriot, who dazzled

Washington and Europe long before women were supposed to behave so

boldly.”

　　–Lynn Sherr, ABC News correspondent, 20/20

　　“Ann Blackman has brought all the skills she honed as a

Washington journalist to tell the story of a fascinating woman of

the nineteenth century. Here is the Confederate spy–a courtier, a

savvy Southerner, a rebel in her own right–shown with all her

strengths and flaws.”

　　–Ellen Goodman, syndicated Boston Globe columnist

　　From the Hardcover edition.

书籍介绍

For sheer bravado and style, no woman in the North or South rivaled the Civil War heroine Rose O’Neale Greenhow. Fearless spy for the Confederacy, glittering Washington hostess, legendary beauty and lover, Rose Greenhow risked everything for the cause she valued more than life itself. In this superb portrait, biographer Ann Blackman tells the surprising true story of a unique woman in history.

“I am a Southern woman, born with revolutionary blood in my veins,” Rose once declared–and that fiery spirit would plunge her into the center of power and the thick of adventure. Born into a slave-holding family, Rose moved to Washington, D.C., as a young woman and soon established herself as one of the capital’s most charming and influential socialites, an intimate of John C. Calhoun, James Buchanan, and Dolley Madison.

She married well, bore eight children and buried five, and, at the height of the Gold Rush, accompanied her husband Robert Greenhow to San Francisco. Widowed after Robert died in a tragic accident, Rose became notorious in Washington for her daring–and numerous–love affairs.

But with the outbreak of the Civil War, everything changed. Overnight, Rose Greenhow, fashionable hostess, become Rose Greenhow, intrepid spy. As Blackman reveals, deadly accurate intelligence that Rose supplied to General Pierre G. T. Beauregard written in a fascinating code (the code duplicated in the background on the jacket of this book). Her message to Beauregard turned the tide in the first Battle of Bull Run, and was a brilliant piece of spycraft that eventually led to her arrest by Allan Pinkerton and imprisonment with her young daughter.

Indomitable, Rose regained her *** and, as the war reached a crisis, journeyed to Europe to plead the Confederate cause at the royal courts of England and France.

Drawing on newly discovered diaries and a rich trove of contemporary accounts, Blackman has fashioned a thrilling, intimate narrative that reads like a novel. Wild Rose is an unf***ettable rendering of an astonishing woman, a book that will stand with the finest Civil War biographies.

From the Hardcover edition.