After the War, a grateful Grant made Van Lews Richmond's Postmaster, a move much resented in the South. Nevertheless, she served with some distinction, introducing home delivery and promoting local blacks into important positions. Van Lews also, and unlike most scalawags, became a "radical republican" and a vociferous proponent of civil rights and women's suffrage.

Inevitably, as the Redeemers returned to power, Van Lew's became more and more isolated. Republican President Hayes, under Southern pressure to stop "radical reconstruction," refused to re-appoint Van Lews. She finished her years living alone in her mansion, hardly spoken to. As she grew old, "Crazy Bet," so named because of the face-saving idea that the outspoken Van Lew's had betrayed the South due to mental illness, became a sort of local crone - a figure parents used to scare their children with. Ironically, though, her death in 1900 made headlines in both North and South. Van Lews may have been neglected, but both regions recognized the contribution she made to the Northern victory.

The obituaries about Van Lews focused on her role as a spy - a term she bitterly resented. "I do not know how they can call me spy," she wrote, "serving my own country within its recognized borders."

Actually, Elizabeth Van Lews was right. She wasn't a spy. She was a patriot. Varon's biography about this unsung heroine is a compelling tale.