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The Memoirs of Colonel John S. Mosby:
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Mosby, John Singleton, 1833-1916
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Call number E581.643d .M48 1917 (Davis Library, UNC-CH)
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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 19th
edition, 1996
-
LC Subject Headings:
- Mosby, John Singleton, 1833-1916.
- Guerrillas -- Confederate States of America -- Biography.
- Soldiers -- Confederate States of America -- Biography.
- Confederate States of America. Army. Virginia Cavalry Battalion, 43rd.
- Virginia -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Regimental histories.
- Virginia -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Military life.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Campaigns.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Underground movements.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Regimental histories.
- United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives, Confederate.
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- 1998-07-19,
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THE MEMOIRS OF
COLONEL JOHN S. MOSBY
EDITED BY
CHARLES WELLS RUSSELL
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1917
Copyright, 1917,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
All rights reserved
Published, September, 1917
Norwood Press
Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood. Mass., U.S.A.
Page v
ACKNOWLEDGMENT ACKNOWLEDGMENT is made to the publishers of Munsey's Magazine, Leslie's Weekly, and the New York Herald for permission to use material which has previously appeared in their pages.
Page vii
INTRODUCTION
THE chronicles of history record that in most
wars some figure, through intrepidity, originality,
and brilliancy of action, has raised himself above
his fellows and achieved a picturesqueness which
is commonly associated only with characters of
fiction. In the American Civil War, or the War
Between the States, three dashing cavalry leaders
- Stuart, Forrest, and Mosby - so captured the
public imagination that their exploits took on a
glamour, which we associate - as did the writers
of the time - with the deeds of the Waverley
characters and the heroes of Chivalry. Of the
three leaders Colonel John S. Mosby (1833-1916)
was, perhaps, the most romantic figure. In the
South his dashing exploits made him one of the
great heroes of the "Lost Cause." In the North
he was painted as the blackest of redoubtable
scoundrels, a fact only to be explained as due to
the exasperation caused by a successful enemy
against whom all measures were worthless and
Page viii
ineffective. So great became the fame of Mosby's partisan exploits that soldiers of fortune came even from Europe to share his adventures.
Colonel Mosby was a "Virginian of the Virginians", educated at the State's University, and seemed destined to pass his life as an obscure Virginia attorney, when war brought him his opportunity for fame. The following pages contain the story of his life as private in the cavalry, as a scout, and as a leader of partisans.
But Mosby was the type of man who is not content with the routine performance of duties, and this was illustrated early in his career as a soldier. He was ever on the watch to aid the cause in which he was engaged. Stuart's famous ride around McClellan and Lee's attack on Pope, before he could be reinforced, were deeds for which Mosby fairly earned some share of credit. These enterprises, together with his prevention of Sheridan's use of the Manassas Gap Railroad, had a distinct bearing upon the successful maintenance of the Southern Confederacy for four long years. But his great work was his distinctive warfare near Washington against the troops guarding the Potomac. Behind the Northern forces aiming at Richmond, for two years of almost incredible activity - Mosby himself said, "I rarely rested more than a
Page ix
day at a time" - he maintained his warfare, neutralizing at times some fifty thousand troops by compelling them to guard the rear of the enemy and his capital. The four counties of Virginia nearest Washington became known as "Mosby's Confederacy." Here his blows were almost incessant, followed always by the dispersing of his band or bands among the farmhouses of the sympathetic inhabitants. Seldom or never was an attack made with more than two hundred and fifty men. Usually from thirty to sixty would be collected at a rendezvous, such as Rectortown, Aldie, or Upperville, and after discharging, as it were, a lightning flash, be swallowed up in impenetrable darkness, leaving behind only a threat of some future raid, to fall no one could foresee where. The execution of this bold plan was successful - long successful; its damage to the enemy enormous, and it exhibited a military genius of the highest order. By reason of his originality and intellectual boldness, as well as his intrepidity and success of execution, Mosby is clearly entitled to occupy a preëminence among the partisan leaders of history.
And this is to be said for him, that he created and kept up to the end of the great war "Mosby's Confederacy", while preserving the full confidence and regard of the knightly Lee.
Page x
Confederate General Marcus Wright, who assisted in editing the records of the war, wrote to Colonel Mosby as follows:
Dear Colonel Mosby: It may and I know will be interesting to you that I have carefully read all of General R. E. Lee's dispatches, correspondence, etc., during the war of 1861-1865; and while he was not in the habit of paying compliments, yet these papers of his will show that you received from him more compliments and commendations than any other officer in the Confederate army.
But an even more effective testimonial of Mosby's success comes from the records of his enemy. For a time the Northern belief was that "Mosby" was a myth, the "Wandering Jew" of the struggle. Later, he was termed the "Modern Rob Roy." Such epithets as "land pirate", "horse thief", "murderer", and "guerrilla" bear witness of the feeling of exasperation against the man. "Guerrilla", however, was the favorite epithet, and Mosby did not resent its use, for he believed that his success had made the term an honorable one.
The effectiveness of Mosby's work is illustrated by the following comment of the Comte de Paris in his "History of the Civil War in America":
Page xi
In Washington itself, General Heintzelman was in command, who, besides the depots . . . had under his control several thousand infantry ready to take the field, and Stahel's division of cavalry numbering 6,000 horses, whose only task was to pursue Mosby and the few hundred partisans led by this daring chief.
General Joseph E. Hooker, in his testimony on the conduct of the war, said:
I may here state that while at Fairfax Court House my cavalry was reinforced by that of Major-General Stahel. The latter numbered 6,100 sabres. . . . The force opposed to them was Mosby's guerrillas, numbering about 200, and, if the reports of the newspapers were to be believed, this whole party was killed two or three times during the winter. From the time I took command of the army of the Potomac, there was no evidence that any force of the enemy, other than the above-named, was within 100 miles of Washington City; and yet the planks on the chain bridge were taken up at night the greater part of the winter and spring. It was this cavalry force, it will be remembered, I had occasion to ask for, that my cavalry might be strengthened when it was numerically too weak to cope with the superior numbers of the enemy.
How redoubtable Mosby was considered by the Northern authorities may be seen from the following:
Page xii
War Department,
Washington, April 16, 1865.
Major-General Hancock,
Winchester, Va.
In holding an interview with Mosby, it may be needless to caution an old soldier like you to guard against surprise or danger to yourself; but the recent murders show such astounding wickedness that too much precaution cannot be taken. If Mosby is sincere, he might do much toward detecting and apprehending the murderers of the President.
Edwin M. Stanton,
Secretary of War.
Secretary Stanton had previously telegraphed to Hancock, "There is evidence that Mosby knew of Booth's plan" - concerning the assassination of Lincoln - "and was here in the city with him."
No one knew better than Hancock that Mosby, at the time of the assassination, was in Virginia. The notion that he had anything to do with this crime was a part of the reputation he had acquired in the North and which he was doubtless quite willing to acquire in order to give worse dreams to those of the enemy who were in the neighborhood of his operations. This reputation was fostered by soldiers, who, during the war and long afterwards, entertained their firesides with tales of hairbreadth escapes from the dreadful
Page xiii
guerrillas. But some of Mosby's best friends in his later life were men who had been his prisoners.
So far did the hostility and feeling against Mosby carry that as late as May 4, 1865, almost a month after Lee's surrender, General Grant telegraphed to General Halleck, "I would advise offering a reward of $5,000 for Mosby." This was done, but nobody captured him.
The turning point in his career after the war was his endorsement of and voting for Grant in 1872. The Civil War was then but seven years past, and the Southern people were not prepared to follow his lead. They turned against him bitterly - against one of their chief heroes, whom they had delighted to honor - who had struggled so manfully and for so long against the storm raging against them. Young and of little experience in politics he may have thought it inconceivable that they would treat his voting for the magnanimous soldier as the unforgivable sin. His motive was rather gratitude than political, - rather a response to Grant's behavior toward the Southern army, General Lee, and himself, than any design to change the attitude of the South toward the Federal Government. Certainly the Colonel, in spite of abuse and recrimination heaped upon him, never repented of this act.
Page xiv
During his last illness Colonel Mosby did say, no doubt to hear himself contradicted, "I pitched my politics in too high a key when I voted for Grant. I ought to have accepted office under him. My family would now be comfortably supplied with money." But this was far from being his serious opinion, as his own statements show.
Intellectually the Colonel showed as great a constitutional impatience of restraint and as great individuality as he exhibited in his operations during the war. Perhaps his lifelong fondness for Byron's poetry resulted from a feeling that there was a resemblance between the experiences of Byron, as represented in his poems, and his own - the "war of the many with one." But the resemblance was a superficial one. Mosby's impatience of restraint was a so strongly marked characteristic that he always seemed unwilling to follow a plan of his own, after having disclosed it to another. Probably the reason the "Yankees" trying to trap him could never find out where he was going to be next was because he never knew himself.
The following from an interview with him, which appeared in the Philadelphia Post in 1867 or 1868, illustrates his tendency to think independently:
Page xv
"Whom do you consider the ablest General on the Federal side?"
"McClellan, by all odds. I think he is the only man on the Federal side who could have organized the army as it was. Grant had, of course, more successes in the field in the latter part of the war, but Grant only came in to reap the benefits of McClellan's previous efforts. At the same time, I do not wish to disparage General Grant, for he has many abilities, but if Grant had commanded during the first years of the war, we would have gained our independence. Grant's policy of attacking would have been a blessing to us, for we lost more by inaction than we would have lost in battle. After the first Manassas the army took a sort of 'dry rot', and we lost more men by camp diseases than we would have by fighting."
"What is your individual opinion of Jeff Davis?"
"I think history will record him as one of the greatest men of the time. Every lost cause, you know, must have a scapegoat, and Mr. Davis has been chosen as such; he must take all the blame without any of the credit. I do not know any man in the Confederate States that could have conducted the war with the same success that he did."
"Are there any bitter feelings cherished?"
"No, not now, except those engendered since the war by the manner in which we have been treated. . . . The whole administration of affairs in Virginia is in the hands of a lot of bounty jumpers and jailbirds, and their only qualification is that they can take the
Page xvi
iron-clad oath!" "But," he added, "they generally take anything else they can lay their hands on."
General Grant and Colonel Mosby came to be far more than political friends. In fact it was through General Grant that Mosby secured his position with the Southern Pacific Railroad which he held from 1885 to 1901. The two men were well suited to each other. Grant was a silent man - a good listener. Mosby, abrupt and even rude toward those who wished to speak to him irrelevantly, dearly loved to talk to an intelligent person. The silent and slow commander of "all the armies", guided by luminous common sense, and the nervous, impetuous raider - a raider by temperament, a raider in every way - in practice of law, taking part in politics, writing "Memoirs", had much in common that was fundamental. They were but children in taking care of their business affairs; they were shy, and full of feeling, sentiment, and romance.
The Colonel was an assistant attorney in the Department of Justice at Washington from 1904 to 1910 and continued to reside in the Capital until his death, May 30, 1916. He was not often inclined to talk about his own exploits in the Civil War, though going at some length into explanations
Page xvii
of the movements of the great armies and engaging in various controversies about them, as well as about other matters of public interest, past and present. Colonel Mosby realized that the account of the military operations at the Battle of Manassas included in the present volume is markedly at variance with the usual version. His efforts to unravel the story of Stuart's cavalry in the Gettysburg campaign extended over many years and resulted in a book 1 and numerous articles. The account which he prepared for these "Memoirs" he considered the best answer to Stuart's critics, and spoke of it as "the final word."
The Colonel was little interested in anything
which did not concern man in his social relations
except, perhaps, logic and polemics. What
could not be affirmed positively with a geometric
Q. E. D. appealed to him only as it concerned war,
politics, sentiment, or the like. New inventions
left him cold, if not a little resentful, at their
disturbing or rendering out of date the historical
setting of the Civil War. But in political and
social matters he was an advanced thinker,
although this was rather a liberal attitude of mind -
in which he took pride - than any interest in the
1. Now used as a textbook in the War College.
Page xviii
views themselves. His horizon in general was limited by American history and politics. He was full of the anecdotal history of Virginia and conspicuous Virginians of past generations, as well as information about family relationships - information such as is printed in books in New England, but in Virginia has been commonly left to oral tradition.
But the events described in these "Memoirs" were his greatest interest and the days when he was a commander of partisans were the golden days of his over fourscore years. As he said at the reunion of his battalion in 1895:
"Life cannot afford a more bitter cup than the one I drained at Salem, nor any higher reward of ambition than that I received as Commander of the Forty-third Virginia Battalion of Cavalry."
CHARLES W. RUSSELL.
Page xix
CONTENTS
- INTRODUCTION . . . . .vii
- I EARLY LIFE . . . . .1
- II THE WAR BEGINS . . . . .11
- III A PRIVATE IN THE CAVALRY . . . . .22
- IV JOHNSTON'S RETREAT FROM HARPER'S FERRY . . . . .33
- V RECOLLECTIONS OF BATTLE OF MANASSAS . . . . .47
- VI THE STRATEGY OF THE BATTLE OF MANASSAS . . . . .55
- VII ABOUT FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE . . . . .86
- VIII CAMPAIGNING WITH STUART . . . . .99
- IX THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST POPE . . . . .122
- X FIRST EXPLOITS AS A PARTISAN . . . . .146
- XI THE RAID ON FAIRFAX . . . . .168
- XII STUART AND THE GETTYSBURG CAMPAIGN . . . . .201
- XIII THE YEAR AFTER GETTYSBURG . . . . .258
- XIV THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST SHERIDAN . . . . .283
- XV THE GREENBACK RAID . . . . .312
- XVI LAST DAYS IN THE VALLEY . . . . .327
- XVII FINAL SCENES . . . . .353
- XVIII IN RETROSPECT . . . . .365
- XIX MY RECOLLECTIONS OF GENERAL LEE . . . . .374
- XX MY RECOLLECTIONS OF GENERAL GRANT . . . . .383
- INDEX . . . . .401
Page xxi
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
- Colonel Mosby at the Age of Fifty-five
Years . . . . .
Frontispiece
- Colonel Mosby's Father and Brother . . . . .
8
- Virginia Jackson (McLaurine) Mosby, Colonel Mosby's Mother . . . . .
16
- Aaron Burton (Colored), Aged 84 Years . . . . .
30
- Captain Mosby in January, 1863 . . . . .
150
- Mosby Returning from a Raid . . . . .
154
- Major Mosby in 1863. From the Painting by Guillaume . . . . .
200
- William H. Chapman, Lieutenant-Colonel and Next in Rank to
Colonel Mosby when the War Closed . . . . .
270
- Lieutenant Fountain Beatty, Lieutenant Frank H. Rahm, and
Scout John Russell . . . . . 290
- Dr. J. Wiltshire and Major A. E. Richards . . . . .
312
- Charles E. Grogan, Colonel Mosby, and Dr. W. L. Dunn . . . . .
318
- Major A. E. Richards . . . . .
334
- Colonel John S. Mosby. Photographed in Richmond in March,
1865 . . . . . 356
- William H. Mosby, Colonel Mosby's Adjutant and Only Brother . . . . .
360
- Mosby in 1866 . . . . . 362
- Colonel Mosby at Fourscore Years of Age (1915) . . . . .
398
Page 1
THE MEMOIRS OF
COLONEL JOHN S. MOSBY
CHAPTER I
EARLY LIFE
I WAS born December 6, 1833, at the home of
my grandfather, James McLaurine, in Powhatan
County, Virginia. He was a son of Robert
McLaurine, an Episcopal minister, who came from
Scotland before the Revolution. Great-grandfather
McLaurine lived at the glebe and is buried
at Peterville Church in Powhatan. After the
church was disestablished, the State appropriated
the glebe, and Peterville was sold to the Baptists.
My grandfather McLaurine lived to be very old.
He was a soldier of the Revolution, and I well
remember his cough, which it was said he
contracted from exposure in the war when he had
smallpox. My grandfather Mosby was also a
native of Powhatan. He lived at Gibraltar, but
moved to Nelson County, where my father, Alfred
D. Mosby, was born. When I was a child my
father bought a farm near Charlottesville, in
Page 2
Albemarle, on which I was raised. I recollect that one day I went with my father to our peach orchard on a high ridge, and he pointed out Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson, on a mountain a few miles away, and told me some of the history of the great man who wrote the Declaration of Independence.
At that time there were no public and few private schools in Virginia, but a widow opened a school in Fry's Woods, adjoining my father's farm. My sister Victoria and I went as her pupils. I was seven years old when I learned to read, although I had gone a month or so to a country school in Nelson, near a post office called Murrell's Shop, where I had learned to spell. As I was so young my mother always sent a negro boy with me to the schoolhouse, and he came for me in the evening. But once I begged him to stay all day with me, and I shared my dinner with him. When playtime came, some of the larger boys put him up on a block for sale and he was knocked down to the highest bidder. I thought it was a bona fide sale and was greatly distressed at losing such a dutiful playmate. We went home together, but he never spent another day with me at the schoolhouse.
The first drunken man I ever saw was my schoolmaster. He went home at playtime to get his
Page 3
dinner, but took an overdose of whiskey. On the way back he fell on the roadside and went to sleep. The big boys picked him up and carried him into the schoolhouse, and he heard our lessons. The school closed soon after; I don't know why.
It was a common thing in the old days of negro slavery for a Virginia gentleman, who had inherited a fortune, to live in luxury with plenty of the comforts of life and die insolvent; while his overseer retired to live on what he had saved. Mr. Jefferson was one example of this. I often heard that Jefferson had held in his arms Betsy Wheat, a pupil at the school where I learned to read. She was the daughter of the overseer and, being the senior of all the other scholars, was the second in command. She exercised as much authority as the schoolmistress.
As I have said, the log schoolhouse was in Fry's Woods, which adjoined my father's farm. To this rude hut I walked daily for three sessions, with my eldest sister - later with two - often through a deep snow, to get the rudiments of an education. I remember that the schoolmistress, a most excellent woman, whipped her son and me for fighting. That was the only blow I ever received during the time I went to school.
A few years ago I visited the spot in company
Page 4
with Bartlett Bolling, who was with me in the war. There was nothing left but a pile of rocks - the remains of the chimney. The associations of the place raised up phantoms of the past. I am the only survivor of the children who went to school there. I went to the spring along the same path where I had often walked when a barefooted schoolboy and got a drink of cool water from a gourd. There I first realized the pathos of the once popular air, "Ben Bolt"; the spring was still there and the running brook, but all of my schoolmates had gone.
The "Peter Parley" were the standard schoolbooks of my day. In my books were two pictures that made a lasting impression on me. One was of Wolfe dying on the field in the arms of a soldier; the other was of Putnam riding down the stone steps with the British close behind him. About that time I borrowed a copy of the "Life of Marion", which was the first book I read, except as a task at school. I remember how I shouted when I read aloud in the nursery of the way the great partisan hid in the swamp and outwitted the British. I did not then expect that the time would ever come when I would have escapes as narrow as that of Putnam and take part in adventures that have been compared with Marion's.
Page 5
When I was ten years old I began going to school in Charlottesville; sometimes I went on horseback, and sometimes I walked. Two of my teachers, - James White, who taught Latin and Greek, and Aleck Nelson, who taught mathematics - were afterwards professors at Washington and Lee, while General Robert E. Lee was its president. When I was sixteen years old I went as a student to the University of Virginia - some evidence of the progress I had made in getting an education.
In my youth I was very delicate and often heard
that I would never live to be a grown man. But
the prophets were wrong, for I have outlived nearly
all the contemporaries of my youth. I was
devoted to hunting, and a servant always had coffee
ready for me at daylight on a Saturday morning,
so that I was out shooting when nearly all were
sleeping. My father was a slaveholder, and I still
cherish a strong affection for the slaves who nursed
me and played with me in my childhood. That
was the prevailing sentiment in the South - not
one peculiar to myself - but one prevailing in all
the South toward an institution
1 which we now
Page 6
thank Abraham Lincoln for abolishing. I had no taste for athletics and have never seen a ball game. My habits of study were never regular, but I always had a literary taste. While I fairly recited Tacitus and Thucydides as a task, I read with delight Irving's stories of the Moors in Granada.
The Baltimore Sun published an account of
this incident, by Mr. John S. Patton, who said
that Mosby had been fined ten dollars for
assaulting the town sergeant. The young Mosby
had been known as one not given to lawless hilarity,
but as a "fighter." "And the Colonel himself
admits," continues Patton, "that he got the
worst of these boyish engagements, except once,
when the fight was on between him and Charles
Price, of Meachem's, - and in that case they
were separated before victory could perch. They
also go so far as to say that he was a spirited lad,
although far from 'talkative' and not far from
quiet, introspective moods. . . . His antagonist
this time was George Turpin, a student of medicine
in the University. . . . Turpin had carved
Frank Morrison to his taste with a pocket knife
and added to his reputation by nearly killing
Fred M. Wills with a rock. . . .
"When Jack Mosby, spare and delicate - Turpin
was large and athletic - received the latter's threat that
he would eat him 'blood raw' on sight, he proceeded
to get ready. The cause of the impending hostilities
was an incident at a party at the Spooner residence in
Montebello, which Turpin construed as humiliating to
him, and with the aid of some friends who dearly loved
a fisticuff, he reached the conclusion that John Mosby
was to blame and that it was his duty to chastise him.
Mosby was due at Mathematics lecture room and
thither he went and met Professor Courtnay and did
his problems first of all. That over, he thrust a pepper-box
pistol into his jacket and went forth to find his
enemy. He had not far to go; for by this time the
Turpins were keeping a boarding house in the building
then, as now, known as the Cabell House, about the
distance of four Baltimore blocks from the University.
Thither went the future partisan leader, and, with a
friend, was standing on the back porch when Turpin
approached. He advanced on Mosby at once - but
not far; the latter brought his pepper-box into action
with instant effect. Turpin went down with a bullet
in his throat, and was taken up as good as dead. . . .
The trial is still referred to as the cause célèbre in our
local court. Four great lawyers were engaged in it:
the names of Robertson, Rives, Watson, and Leach
adorn the legal annals of Virginia."
The prosecutor in this case was Judge William
J. Robertson, of Charlottesville, who made a
vigorous arraignment of the young student. On
visiting the jail one day after the conviction,
much to his surprise Robertson was greeted by
Mosby in a friendly manner. This was followed
by the loan of a copy of Blackstone's "Commentaries"
to the prisoner and a lifelong friendship
between the two. Thus it was that young
Mosby entered upon the study of law, which he
made his profession.
Colonel Mosby wrote on a newspaper clipping
giving an account of the shooting incident: "I
did not go to Turpin's house, but he came to my
boarding house, and he had sent me a message
that he was coming there to 'eat me up.' "
Mosby's conviction affected him greatly, and
he did not include an account of it in his story
because - or at least it would seem probable -
he feared that the conclusion would be drawn
that he was more like the picture painted by the
enemy during the war, instead of the kindly man
he really was. However this may be, nothing
pleased him more than the honors paid to him by
the people of Charlottesville and by the University
of Virginia. He spoke of these things as
"one of Time's revenges."
In January, 1915, a delegation from Virginia
presented Colonel Mosby with a bronze medal
and an embossed address which read as follows:
Your Alma Mater has pride in your scholarly application
in the days of your prepossessing youth; in your
martial genius, manifested in a career singularly
original and romantic; in the forceful fluency of your
record of the history made by yourself and your
comrades in the army of Northern Virginia; and in the
dignity, diligence, and sagacity with which you have
served your united country at home and abroad.
Endowed with the gift of friendship, which won for
you the confidence of both Lee and Grant, you have
proven yourself a man of war, a man of letters, and a
man of affairs worthy the best traditions of your
University and your State, to both of which you have been
a loyal son.]
When attending court at Abingdon in the summer
of 1860 I met William Blackford, who had
been in class with me at the University and who
was afterwards a colonel of engineers on General
Stuart's staff. Blackford asked me to join a
cavalry company which he was assisting to raise
and in which he expected to be a lieutenant. To
oblige him I allowed my name to be put on the
muster roll; but was so indifferent about the
matter that I was not present when the company
organized. William E. Jones was made captain.
He was a graduate of West Point and had resigned
from the United States army a few years before.
Jones was a fine soldier, but his temper produced
friction with his superiors and greatly impaired
his capacity as a commander.
There were omens of war at this time, but
nobody realized the impending danger. Our first
drill was on January Court Day, 1861. I
borrowed a horse and rode up to Abingdon to take
my first lesson. After the drill was over and
the company had broken ranks, I went to hear
John B. Floyd make a speech on the condition of
the times. He had been Secretary of War and
had lately resigned. Buchanan, in a history of
his administration, said that Floyd's resignation
had nothing to do with secession, but he requested
it on account of financial irregularities he had
discovered in the War Department.
But to return to the campaign of 1860. I
never had any talent or taste for stump speaking
or handling party machines, but with my strong
convictions I was a supporter of Douglas 1 and
the Union.
Whenever a Whig became extreme on the
slave question, he went over to the opposition
party. No doubt the majority of the Virginia
Democrats agreed with the Union sentiments of
Andrew Jackson, but the party was controlled
by a section known as "the chivalry", who were
disciples of Calhoun, and got most of the honors.
It was for this reason that a Virginia Senator
(Mason), who belonged to that school, was
selected to read to the Senate the dying speech of
the great apostle of secession and slavery (Calhoun).
It proved to be a legacy of woe to the South.
I met Mr. Mason at an entertainment given
him on his return from London after the close of
the war. He still bore himself with pride and
dignity, but without that hauteur which is said
to have characterized him when he declared in
the Senate that he was an ambassador from
Virginia. He found his home in the Shenandoah
Valley desolate. It will be remembered that,
with John Slidell, Mason was captured when a
passenger on board an English steamer and sent
a prisoner to Fort Warren (in Boston Harbor),
but he was released on demand of the English
government. Mason told us many interesting
things about his trip to London - of a conversation
with Lord Brougham at a dinner, and the
mistake the London post office had made in sending
his mail to the American minister, Charles
Francis Adams, and Mr. Adams's mail to Mason.
Seeing him thus in the wreck of his hopes and with
no future to cheer him, I was reminded of Caius
Marius brooding among the ruins of Carthage.
William L. Yancey, of Alabama, did more than
any other man in the South to precipitate the
sectional conflict. In a commercial convention,
shortly before the campaign of 1860, he had
offered resolutions in favor of repealing the laws
against the African slave trade. Yancey
attacked Thomas Jefferson as an abolitionist, as
Calhoun had done in the Senate, and called
Virginia a breeding ground for slaves to sell to
the Cotton States. He also charged her people
with using the laws against the importation of
Africans to create for themselves a monopoly
in the slave market. Roger A. Pryor replied to
him in a powerful speech.
Yancey was more responsible than any other
man for the disruption of the Democratic Party
and, consequently, of the Union. He came to
Virginia to speak in the Presidential canvass. I
was attending court at Abingdon, where Yancey
was advertised to speak. A few Douglas men
in the county had invited Tim Rives, a famous
stump orator, to meet Yancey, and I was
delegated to call on the latter and prepare a
joint debate. Yancey was stopping at the house
of Governor Floyd - then Secretary of War.
I went to Floyd's home, was introduced to Yancey,
and stated my business. He refused the joint
debate, and I shall never forget the arrogance
and contempt with which he treated me. I heard
his speech that day; it was a strong one for his
side. As the Virginia people had not yet been
educated up to the secession point, Yancey thinly
veiled his disunion purposes. That night we
put up Tim Rives, who made a great speech in
reply to Yancey and pictured the horrors of
disunion and war. Rives was elected a member of
the Convention that met the next winter, and
there voted against disunion.
Early in the war, the company in which I was
a private was in camp near Richmond, and one
day I met Rives on the street. It was the first
time I had seen him since the speech at Abingdon.
I had written an account of his speech for a
Richmond paper, which pleased him very much, and
he was very cordial. He wanted me to go with
him to the governor's house and get Governor
Letcher, who had also been a Douglas man the
year before, to give me a commission. I declined
and told him that as I had no military training,
I preferred serving as a private under a good
officer. I had no idea then that I should ever
rise above the ranks.
A few days before the presidential election, I
was walking on the street in Bristol when I was
attracted by a crowd that was holding a Bell
and Everett meeting. Some one called on me to
make a Union speech. I rose and told the meeting
that I saw no reason for making a Union speech
at a Bell and Everett meeting; that it was my
mission to call not the righteous, but sinners, to
repentance. This "brought down the house." I
little thought that in a few months I should be
regarded as one of the sinners.
I was very friendly with the editor of the
secession paper in my town. One day he asked me
what I intended to do in the case of a collision
between the Government and South Carolina.
I told him I would be on the side of the Union.
He said that I should find him on the other side.
"Very well," I replied, "I shall meet you at
Philippi."
Some years after the war he called upon
me in Washington and jokingly reminded me of
what I had said to him. As he was about my
age and did not go into the army, I was tempted
to tell him that I did go to Philippi, but did not
meet him there. 1
In April, 1861, came the call to arms. On the
day after the bombardment by South Carolina
and the surrender of Fort Sumter that aroused
all the slumbering passions of the country, I was
again attending court at Abingdon, when the
telegraph operator told me of the great news that
had just gone over the wire. Mr. Lincoln had
called on the States for troops to suppress the
rebellion.
In the preceding December, Floyd had ordered
Major Anderson to hold Sumter against the
secessionists to the last extremity. Anderson simply
obeyed Floyd's orders. When the news came,
Governor Floyd was at home, and I went to his
house to tell him. I remember he said it would
be the bloodiest war the world had ever seen.
Floyd's was a sad fate. He had, as Secretary of
War, given great offense to the North by the
shipping of arms from the northern arsenals to
the South, some months before secession. He
was charged with having been in collusion with
the enemies of the Government under which he
held office, and with treachery. At Donelson he
was the senior officer in command. When the
other brigadiers refused to fight any longer, he
brought off his own men and left the others to
surrender to Grant. This was regarded as a
breach of discipline, and Jefferson Davis relieved
him of his command.
When Lincoln's proclamation was issued, the
Virginia Convention was still in session and had
not passed a secession ordinance, so she was not
included with States against which the proclamation
was first directed. With the exception of
the northwestern section of the State, where there
were few slaves and the Union sentiment
predominated, the people of Virginia, in response to
the President's call for troops to enforce the
laws, sprang to arms to resist the Government.
The war cry "To arms!" resounded throughout
the land and, in the delirium of the hour, we all
forgot our Union principles in our sympathy
with the pro-slavery cause, and rushed to the
field of Mars.
In issuing his proclamation, Lincoln referred
for authority to a statute in pursuance of which
George Washington sent an army into Pennsylvania
to suppress the Whiskey Insurrection.
But the people were persuaded that Lincoln's
real object was to abolish slavery, although at his
inaugural he had said:
There has never been any reasonable cause for such
apprehension that by the accession of the Republican
administration their property and their peace and
personal security were endangered. Indeed, the most
ample evidence to the contrary has all the while existed
and been open to their inspection. It is found in
nearly all the published speeches of him who now
addresses you. I do but quote from one of those speeches
when I declare that "I have no purpose, directly or
indirectly, to interfere with the institution of slavery
in the States where it exists." I believe I have no
lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do
so.
The South had always been solid for slavery
and when the quarrel about it resulted in a conflict
of arms, those who had approved the policy
of disunion took the pro-slavery side. It was
perfectly logical to fight for slavery, if it was right
to own slaves. Enforcing the laws was not
coercing a State unless the State resisted the
execution of the laws. When such a collision
came, coercion depended on which was the stronger
side.
The Virginia Convention had been in session
about two months, but a majority had opposed
secession up to the time of the proclamation,
and even then a large minority, including many
of the ablest men in Virginia, voted against it.
Among that number was Jubal Early, who was
prominent in the war. Nobody cared whether it
was a constitutional right they were exercising,
or an act of revolution. At such times reason is
silent and passion prevails.
The ordinance of secession was adopted in
April and provided that it be submitted to a
popular vote on the fourth Thursday in May.
According to the States' Rights theory, Virginia
was still in the Union until the ordinance was
ratified; but the State immediately became an
armed camp, and her troops seized the United
States Armory at Harper's Ferry and the Norfolk
Navy Yard. Virginia went out of the Union
by force of arms, and I went with her.
My first night in camp I was detailed as one of
the camp guards. Sergeant Tom Edmonson - a
gallant soldier who was killed in June, 1864 - gave
me the countersign and instructed me as to the
duties of a sentinel. For two hours, in a cold
wind, I walked my round and was very glad when
my relief came and I could go to rest on my pallet
of straw. The experience of my first night in
camp rather tended to chill my military ardor
and was far more distasteful than picketing near
the enemy's lines on the Potomac, which I afterwards
did in hot and cold weather, very cheerfully;
in fact I enjoyed it. The danger of being
shot by a rifleman in a thicket, if not attractive,
at least kept a vidette awake and watching. At
this time I was the frailest and most delicate man
in the company, but camp duty was always irksome
to me, and I preferred being on the outposts.
During the whole time that I served as
a private - nearly a year - I only once missed
going on picket three times a week. The single
exception was when I was disabled one night by
my horse falling over a cow lying in the road.
Captain Jones had strict ideas of discipline,
which he enforced, but he took good care of his
horses as well as his men. There was a horse
inspection every morning, and the man whose
horse was not well groomed got a scolding mixed
with some cursing by Captain Jones. Jones was
always very kind to me. He drilled his own
company and also a company of cavalry from
Marion, which had come to our camp to get the
benefit of his instruction in cavalry tactics.
In the Marion company was William E. Peters,
Professor at Emory and Henry College, who
had graduated-in the same class in Greek with
me at the University. When he and I were
students reading Thucydides, we did not expect
ever to take part in a greater war than the
Peloponnesian. Peters had left his literary work to
be a lieutenant of cavalry. He was made a staff
officer by General Floyd in his campaign that
year in West Virginia. For some reason Peters
was not with Floyd when the latter escaped from
Fort Donelson in February, 1862. Peters was
a strict churchman, but considered it his duty
to fight a duel with a Confederate officer. He
became a colonel of cavalry. Peters's regiment
was with McCausland when he was sent by
General Early in August, 1864, to Chambersburg,
and his regiment was selected as the one to set
fire to the town. Peters refused to obey the order,
for which he is entitled to a monument to his
memory. Reprisals in war can only be justified
as a deterrent. As the Confederates were holding
the place for only a few hours, while the
Northern armies were occupying a large part of
the South, no doubt, aside from any question of
humanity, Peters thought it was bad policy to
provoke retaliation. General Early ordered a
reprisal in kind on account of the houses burned
in the Shenandoah Valley a few months before
by General Hunter. As General Early made
no mention of Peters in his book, I imagine it was
because of his refusal to apply the torch to
Chambersburg. On his return from this expedition,
McCausland was surprised by Averill at Moorefield,
and Peters was wounded and captured.
He told me that he had expected to be put under
arrest for disobedience as soon as he got back to Virginia.
Hunter was a member of an old Virginia family,
but he showed no favor to Virginians. At Bull
Run he commanded the leading division that
crossed at Sudley and was badly wounded, but
there was no sympathy for him in Virginia. A
relative of his told me that when Hunter met a
lady who was a near relative, he offered to
embrace her, but was repelled. She thought that
in fighting against Virginia he was committing
an unnatural act and that he had the feelings,
described by Hamlet, of one who "would kill
a king and marry with his brother." On Hunter's
staff was his relative, Colonel Strother, who
had won literary distinction over the pen name of
"Porte Crayon." Both men seemed to be animated
by the same sentiments towards their kin.
Hunter presided over the court that condemned
Mrs. Surratt as an accessory to the assassination
of President Lincoln. He closed his life by suicide.
But to return to our company of cavalry and
my first days as a soldier. We were sent, within
a few days, to another camping ground, where
we had plank sheds for shelter and where we
drilled regularly. Several companies of infantry
shared the camp with us. Once I had been
detailed for camp guard and, having been relieved
just as the company went out to drill, I saddled
my horse and went along. I had no idea, that it
was a breach of discipline to be doing double
duty, until two men with muskets came up and
told me that I was under arrest for it. I was too
proud to say a word and, as my time had come,
I went again to walking my rounds. Once after
that, when we were in camp on Bull Run, I was
talking at night with the Colonel in his tent and
did not hear the bugle sounded for roll call. So
a lieutenant, who happened to be in command,
ordered me, as a penalty, to do duty the rest of
the morning as a camp guard. He knew that
my absence from roll call was not wilful but
a mistake. I would not make any explanation
but served my tour of duty. These were the
only instances in which I was punished when a private.
Our Circuit Judge, Fulkerson, who had served
in the Mexican War, was appointed a colonel by
Governor Letcher, and took command of the
camp at Abingdon. But in a few days we were
ordered to Richmond. Fulkerson, with the infantry,
went by rail, but Jones preferred to march
his Company all the way. As he had been an
officer in the army on the plains, we learned a
good deal from him in the two weeks on the road,
and it was a good course of discipline for us. I
was almost a perfect stranger in the company to
which I belonged, and I felt so lonely in camp that
I applied to Captain Jones for a transfer to an
infantry company from Bristol. He said that
I would have to get the approval of the Governor
and forwarded my application to him at Richmond.
Fortunately the next day we were ordered away,
and I heard nothing more about the transfer.
On May 30, in the afternoon, our company -
one hundred strong - left Abingdon to join the
army. In spite of a drizzling rain the whole
population was out to say farewell; in fact a
good many old men rode several miles with us.
We marched ten miles and then disbanded to
disperse in squads, under the command of an
officer or of a non-commissioned officer, to spend
the night at the country homes. I went under
Jim King, the orderly sergeant, and spent the
night at the house of Major Ab. Beattie, who
gave us the best of everything, but I was so
depressed at parting with my wife and children
that I scarcely spoke a word. King had been
a cadet at West Point for a short time and had
learned something of tactics. He was afterwards
transferred to the 37th Virginia Infantry and
was killed in Jackson's battle at Kernstown.
When the roll was called the next morning at
the rendezvous at old Glade Spring Church, I
don't think a man was missing. The men were
boiling with enthusiasm and afraid that the war
would be over before they got to the firing line.
I remember one man who was conspicuous on
the march; he rode at the head of the column
and got the bouquets the ladies threw at us; but
in our first battle he was conspicuous for his
absence and stayed with the wagons. Our march
to the army was an ovation. Nobody dreamed
of the possibility of our failure and the last scene
of the great drama at Appomattox. We made
easy marches, and by the time we got to Wytheville,
all of my depression of spirits had gone,
and I was as lively as anybody. It took us two
weeks to get to Richmond, where we spent a few
days on the Fair Grounds. We were then sent
to a camp of instruction at Ashland, where we
remained a short time or until we, with a cavalry
company from Amelia County, were ordered to
in Joe Johnston's army in the Shenandoah.
I well remember that we were in Ashland when
news came to us that Joe Johnston, on June 15,
had retreated from Harper's Ferry to Winchester.
To begin the war by abandoning such an outpost,
when there was no enemy near and no necessity
for it, was a shock for which we were not prepared,
and it chilled our enthusiasm. I couldn't
understand it - that was all - but my instinct
told me at the time what was afterwards confirmed
by reason and experience - that a great
blunder had been committed.
At Wytheville, on our third days march to
Richmond, we got the papers which informed us
that the war had actually begun in a skirmish at
Fairfax, where Captain Marr had been killed.
We were greatly excited by the news of the affair.
Our people had been reading about war and
descriptions of battles by historians and poets,
from the days of Homer down, and were filled
with enthusiasm for military glory. They had
no experience in the hardships of military service
and knew nothing, had no conception, of the
suffering it brings to the homes of those who
have left them. In all great wars, women and
children are the chief sufferers.
Our company joined the First Virginia Cavalry,
commanded by Colonel J. E. B. Stuart, in
the Shenandoah Valley. At Richmond, Captain
Jones, who stood high with those in authority,
had procured Sharp carbines for us. We
considered this a great compliment, as arms were
scarce in the Confederacy. We had been
furnished with sabres before we left Abingdon, but
the only real use I ever heard of their being put to
was to hold a piece of meat over a fire for frying.
I dragged one through the first year of the war,
but when I became a commander, I discarded it.
The sabre and lance may have been very good
weapons in the days of chivalry, and my suspicion
is that the combats of the hero of Cervantes were
more realistic and not such burlesques as they are
supposed to be. But certainly the sabre is of
no use against gunpowder. Captain Jones also
made requisition for uniforms, but when they
arrived there was almost a mutiny. They were
a sort of dun color and came from the penitentiary.
The men piled them up in the camp, and all but
Fount Beattie and myself refused to wear them.
We joined Joe Johnston's army in the Shenandoah
Valley at his headquarters in Winchester
and rested there for a day. Then we went on to
join Colonel J. E. B. Stuart's regiment at Bunker
Hill, a village about twelve miles distant on the
pike leading to Martinsburg, where Patterson's
army was camped. We were incorporated into
the First Virginia Cavalry, which Stuart had
just organized, now on outpost to watch Patterson.
I had never seen Stuart before, and the
distance between us was so great that I never
expected to rise to even an acquaintance with him.
Stuart was a graduate of West Point and as a
lieutenant in Colonel Sumner's regiment, the
First Cavalry, had won distinction and had
been wounded in an Indian fight. At the beginning
of the war he was just twenty-eight years
old. His appearance - which included a reddish
beard and a ruddy complexion - indicated
a strong physique and great energy.
In his work on the outposts Stuart soon showed
that he possessed the qualities of a great leader
of cavalry. He never had an equal in such service.
He discarded the old maxims and soon discovered
that in the conditions of modern war the
chief functions of cavalry are to learn the designs
and to watch and report the movements of the
enemy.
We rested a day in camp, and many of us wrote
letters to our homes, describing the hospitable
welcome we had met on our long march and our
anxiety to meet the foe who was encamped a few
miles away. On the following day, to our great
delight, Captain Jones was ordered to take us on
a scout towards Martinsburg. My first experience
was near there - at Snodgrass Spring -
where we came upon two soldiers who were out
foraging. They ran across the field, but we overtook
them. I got a canteen from one - the first
I had ever seen - which I found very useful in
the first battle I was in. It was a trophy which
I prized highly. We got a good view of Patterson's
army, a mile or so away, and returned that
evening to our bivouac, all in the highest of spirits.
Nearly every man in the company wrote a letter
to somebody the next day.
On April 27, Stonewall Jackson was ordered
to the command of Harper's Ferry, which the
militia had seized a few days before. Harper's
Ferry is situated in a gap in the Blue Ridge
through which flow the waters of the Potomac
anal the Shenandoah. John Brown had seized
the place in his rebellion. The fact that he tried
to start a slave insurrection in a region where
there were few slaves is proof that he was a
monomaniac. But Harper's Ferry was a place of
great strategic value for the Confederates, as the
railroad and canal on the Potomac from Washington,
fifty miles below, passed through the
gap. It was a salient position; its possession
by the Confederates was a menace to the North
and broke direct communication between the
Capital and the West. A strategic offensive on
the border was the best policy to encourage
Southern sentiment in Maryland and defend the
Shenandoah Valley from invasion.
A Virginian lieutenant, Roger Jones, had been
stationed at Harper's Ferry with a small guard to
protect the property of the Government. He
remained until the force coming to capture the
place was in sight, then set fire to the buildings,
and retreated. His example in holding the position
to the last extremity was not followed by
the Confederates.
When Jackson arrived at the scene of his command,
without waiting for instructions, he prepared
to hold it by fortifying Maryland Heights.
"I am of the opinion," he wrote to General Lee,
"that this place should be defended with the
spirit that actuated the defenders of Thermopylae
and if left to myself such is my determination."
General Lee was in accord with Jackson's sentiments.
Now Jackson did not mean that Harper's
Ferry should be held as a fortress to stand
a siege; nor that he would stay there and die
like the Spartans in the Pass, but that he would
hold it until a likelihood of its being surrounded
by superior numbers was imminent. There was
no prospect of this being the case, for no investing
force was near. The best way to defend the
Shenandoah Valley was to hold the line of the
Potomac as a menace to Washington.
Major Deas, who had been sent to Harper's
Ferry as an inspector of the Confederate War
Department, thought that the troops showed
an invincible spirit of resistance. On May 21
he wrote: "I have not asked Colonel Jackson
his opinion on the subject, but my own is that
there is force enough here to hold the place against
any attack which, under the existing state of
affairs, may be contemplated." And on May
23, the day before McDowell's army at Washington
crossed into Virginia, he reported that
there were "about 8000 troops at Harper's Ferry
and the outposts, including five companies of
artillery and a naval battery, and that 7300 were
then able to go into battle well-armed. The
Naval Batteries," he said, "under Lieutenant
Fauntleroy, are placed on the northern and
southern salients of the village of Harper's Ferry
and envelop by their fire the whole of the town
of Bolivar and the approaches of the immediate
banks of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers.
The cavalry under Lieutenant-Colonel J. E. B.
Stuart is in very good condition and quite effective.
All the infantry regiments are daily drilled
in the school of the soldier and company, and
valuable assistance is received in this respect from
the young men who have been instructed at the
Military School at Lexington." Neither Jackson
nor Major Deas knew of any immediate
danger of Harper's Ferry being invested.
On May 24, in accordance with orders from the
Confederate Government at Montgomery, General
Joseph E. Johnston assumed command at
the Ferry, and in a few days Jackson was given a
brigade of five Virginia regiments. The outposts
at the Ferry then extended from Williamsport on
the Potomac to Point of Rocks on the river below.
Johnston at once submitted a memorandum
to Richmond on the conditions at Harper's Ferry,
which displayed the caution for which he became
distinguished. He seemed to have little confidence
in his troops and thought the position
could be easily turned from above or below, taking
no account of the fact that he might turn the
flank of an enemy who was flanking him. Johnston
asked instructions from General Lee in
relation to the manner in which the troops he
commanded should be used. And on May 28
he again wrote in the same tone of despair: "If
the Commander-in-Chief has precise instructions
to give I beg to receive them early. I have
prepared means of transportation for a march.
Should it be decided that the troops should
constitute a garrison this expense can be recalled,"
which shows he was getting ready for a retreat.
With this letter Johnston enclosed a memorandum
from a staff officer, Major Whiting, in which the
latter spoke of troops that were gathering at
Carlisle and Chambersburg, intimating that in
the event of the advance of this force it might be
necessary to move out to prevent being shut up
in a cul-de-sac. But such a thing was too remote
and contingent to constitute a danger of
investment at that time. No place is absolutely
impregnable; Gibraltar has been captured. The
answer Johnston should have received to this
request for orders was that he did not command
a garrison to defend a fortress, but an active force
in the field; and that Harper's Ferry might be
held as a picket post.
The discipline of Johnston's troops ought to
have been as good as that of the three months'
men that Patterson was collecting at Chambersburg,
fifty miles away. In addition to the cadets
of the Virginia Military Institute, who were
drilling his regiments, Johnston had in his army
at least ten officers who had lately resigned from
the U. S. Army. Nearly all of the field officers
of Jackson's brigade had been educated at the
Military Institute, and several had been officers
in the Mexican War. Their conduct in battle
a few weeks afterwards shows how much Johnston
had underrated them. The men were volunteers
full of enthusiasm for a cause and rendered cheerful
obedience to orders; it was not necessary to
drill such material into machines to make them
soldiers.
Johnston complained of the want of discipline
of his army and the danger of being surrounded
by a superior force. The force that was coming
to surround the Ferry was a spectre. McDowell's
and Patterson's armies were fifty miles away and
a hundred miles apart. At the request of Governor
Pierpont a few regiments had crossed the
Ohio, but McClellan's headquarters were still at
Cincinnati. Any movement from that direction
would naturally be through central Virginia -
towards Richmond - in coöperation with McDowell.
Johnston continued to show great
anxiety about his position and wrote about it
several times to General Lee. But neither Lee
nor President Davis could see the danger as he
saw it, and on June 7 General Lee - to calm his
fears wrote him: "He (the President) does
not think it probable that there will be an
immediate attack by troops from Ohio. General
N. J. Garnett, C. S. Army, with a command of
4000 men, has been dispatched to Beverly to
arrest the progress of troops. . . . Colonel McDonald
has also been sent to interrupt the passage
of troops over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad.
It is hoped by these means you will be
relieved from an attack in that direction, and
will have merely to meet an attack in front from
Pennsylvania."
In the meantime reinforcements were going to
Beauregard and Johnston almost daily. Wise
and Floyd had been sent to the Kanawha Valley
to counteract any movement there, and Garnett,
with four thousand troops, had been sent to
northwest Virginia. Patterson's was the only
force from which Johnston could expect an attack,
and as he would have to make detachments from
it to guard his communications, Patterson could
not be much superior in numbers when the
collision should come.
General Lee, as adviser to the War Department,
was really the de facto Secretary of War and
directed all operations in the field. He had
selected Manassas Junction as a strategic point for
the concentration of troops, on account of its
being in connection with the Valley. On return
from Manassas Junction, to relieve Johnston of
anxiety about his flank being turned, Lee wrote
to him that he had placed Colonel Ewell in
advance at Fairfax Court House and Colonel Eppa
Hunton at Leesburg on the Potomac, each with
a force of infantry and cavalry in reservation,
who would inform him of any movement to his
rear. But Johnston continued uneasy and,
although he was receiving reinforcements, he again
wrote that he had heard that Patterson had 10,000
troops at Chambersburg, that some of McClellan's
troops had reached Grafton, and he apprehended
a junction of all of those forces against him. He
should at least have waited for the development
of such a plan and then, instead of retreating,
have taken the offensive to defeat it. Johnston's
suggestion meant the abandonment of the Valley.
Patterson, who was organizing the force at
Chambersburg, was a political general, only
remembered for having allowed the force he
commanded in the Shenandoah Valley to render no
service at a critical time. Patterson proposed to
capture Harper's Ferry, which, of course, General
Scott was very willing to do. But the only
support Scott could promise from Washington was
to make a demonstration towards Manassas to
prevent reinforcements going to the Valley and
to send a force of 2500 on a secondary expedition
up the Potomac. As the Ferry was of great
strategic value as an outpost, Scott warned
Patterson of the desperate resistance he might expect
from the Confederates. He did not suspect that
the Confederates were then packing up to leave.
On June 14 the Confederates began the evacuation
of Harper's Ferry and retreated ten or
twelve miles to Charles Town. No movement
had been made against them from any direction.
Several regiments had just arrived - there were
about 3000 militia at Winchester, and a force of
the enemy had retreated from Romney.
On June 13, after repeated requests for instructions
about holding Harper's Ferry, which showed
clearly a desire to shift the responsibility for it,
the War Department wrote him the conditions on
which the place should be evacuated: "You have
been heretofore instructed to use your own discretion
as to retiring from your position at Harper's
Ferry and taking the field to check the advance
of the enemy. . . . As you seem to desire,
however, that the responsibility of your retirement
should be assumed here, and as no reluctance
is felt to bear any burden which the public
interest may require, you can consider yourself
authorized, whenever the position of the enemy
shall convince you that he is about to turn your
position and thus deprive the country of the services
of yourself and the troops under your command,
to destroy everything at Harper's Ferry."
Johnston seems to have met this letter at
Charles Town while it was on the way, and did
not wait for it at the Ferry. Johnston's report
says he met a courier from Richmond with a
despatch authorizing him to evacuate Harper's
Ferry at his discretion. The dispatch he received
had no such instructions; the conditions on which
he was authorized to abandon the place had not
arisen; no enemy was threatening to turn his position.
On June 15 Patterson crossed the Maryland
line. His leading brigade was commanded by
Colonel George H. Thomas, a Virginian, who
was an officer in the Second Cavalry under Lee.
It had been expected that he would go with the
people of his native State. On the sixteenth his
brigade waded the Potomac. When Patterson
heard that Harper's Ferry had been abandoned,
he was incredulous and thought it was a ruse,
giving Joe Johnston a credit he himself never
claimed.
The evacuation of Harper's Ferry before it
was compelled by the presence of an enemy was
not approved at Richmond, nor was it done to
act in concert with any other force, as was then
supposed. The victory at Bull Run a few weeks
afterwards confirmed the impression that the
movement had been made in coöperation with
Beauregard. The latter knew nothing of such a
purpose until he heard that the Confederates had
lost their advantage, and that the enemy held the
key to the Shenandoah Valley. In plain words
it was a retreat.
The evacuation of the post before there was
any pressure to compel it made Johnston the
innocent cause of a comedy at Washington.
General Scott could not comprehend what could
be the motive for it, except on the theory of its
being a feigned retreat to capture Washington by
a stratagem. No other reason could be conceived
why the Confederates should surrender,
without making a defense, the advantage of
Harper's Ferry as a base.
After a part of his force had crossed the Potomac,
to his surprise, Patterson received a telegram from
General Scott, on June 16, ordering him to send
at once to Washington all the regular troops,
horse and foot, and Burnside's Rhode Island
regiment. And on the 17th of June, Scott repeated
the order and said: "We are pressed here. Send
the troops I have twice called for without delay."
Where the pressure could come from was a mystery
to Patterson, as he knew that Johnston was still
in the Shenandoah Valley, but the order was
imperative, and he obeyed. "The troops were sent,"
he said, "leaving me without a single piece of
artillery, and for the time with but one troop of
cavalry, which had not been in service over a
month." So the hostile armies retreated in
opposite directions. Patterson recrossed the
Potomac, and Johnston, unconscious of the alarm
which his retreat had given in Washington, went
on to Winchester.
There was another amusing episode on June 16
as a result of the Harper's Ferry operations. In
anticipation of the demonstration he was to make
in favor of Patterson's predicted attack on Harper's
Ferry, McDowell had sent General Schenck
on the Loudoun railroad as an advance guard.
When turning a curve near Vienna, a fire was
opened on the train by what Schenck called a
"masked battery." The engine was in the rear,
and as the engineer could not draw the train out
of the range of fire, he detached the engine and
disappeared under a full head of steam. So
Schenck and his men had to walk back. Under
a flag of truce he asked permission to bury the dead
and take care of the wounded. Schenck afterwards
gained notoriety as U. S. Minister at London
and was recalled. The only distinction he
won in the war was as the inventor of the term
"masked battery." The battery that did so much
damage was commanded by my schoolmate, Del
Kemper.
The whole country was greatly surprised by
the news of the evacuation of Harper's Ferry. If
Johnston had waited a day longer for the answer
to his request for instructions, his retreat would
have been a disobedience of orders. The conditions
did not exist, in the opinion of the War
Department, which would justify the evacuation.
Johnston sent a reply in which he disclaimed a
desire to shift responsibility - which was clearly
inconsistent with his request for instructions.
Harper's Ferry should have been held until
danger was imminent. It must have been a
position of strategic value as well as of tactical
strength since it was held by 11,000 men against
the Confederates and used as a base in the
Gettysburg campaign and also when Early
invaded Maryland. When the Ferry was
evacuated, McDowell's army was fifty miles below
defending Washington, and Beauregard, in his
front, fully occupied his attention. Patterson
was at Hagerstown, had not crossed the Potomac,
and had given no sign of doing so.
Stuart's regiment arrived at the scene of the
approaching battle on the evening of July go and
went into bivouac near Ball's Ford. The armies
were so close together that there was a great deal
of picket firing, and I remember very well the
foreboding I felt when I lay down under a pine
tree to rest beside Fount Beattie. When the
bugle sounded on the morning of the twenty-first,
in counting off, I was Number 1 in the first set of
fours and rode at the head of the squadron that
day. Nothing afterwards occurred in my military
career that gives me more satisfaction to
remember. A few days before six Colt pistols
had been sent to our company, and Captain
Jones had selected the men who were to have
them. I was one of the six - I don't know why.
But to reconcile those who got no pistols, Jones
told them that the six should be selected for the
most dangerous work. Shortly after breakfast
on the morning of the battle, Stuart sent Jones to
make a reconnaissance over Bull Run. When we
reached the woods where he thought the enemy
might be, Jones called for the six men. We all
responded and rode off into the woods to reconnoitre,
but we didn't find an enemy. So the
company recrossed the Run.
Our regiment was divided during the battle,
and the squadron to which I belonged was placed
under a Major Swan, a Marylander. Late in
the day when the enemy was in retreat, Swan
halted us in a field within fifty yards of Kemper's
guns, which were firing on the retreating troops.
That was the very time for us to have been on the
enemy's flank. I was near Captain Jones. He
rose in his stirrups and said indignantly, "Major
Swan! You can't be too bold in pursuing a flying
enemy." But he made no impression on Swan.
After dark Swan marched us back over Bull
Run, and I slept in a drenching rain in a fence
corner. Swan did not get a man or a horse
scratched. He did a life insurance business that
day. Instead of Swan supporting the battery,
the battery supported Swan. Afterwards my last
official act as adjutant of the company was to
carry an order from Jones who had become
colonel, for Swan's arrest. We lay all the next day
near the battlefield, and I rode over it, carrying a
despatch to Stuart at Sudley. But the first thing
I did in the morning was to make a temporary
shelter from the rain in a fence corner and write a
letter to my wife.
Monday, July 22d,
Battlefield of Manassas.
My dearest Pauline:
under a perfect storm of shot and shell - it was a
miracle that none of our company was killed. We
took all of their cannon from them; among the batteries
captured was Sherman's - battle lasted about
7 hours - about 90,000 Yankees, 45,000 of our men.
The cavalry pursued them till dark - followed 6 or
7 miles. Genl. Scott commanded them. I just snatch
this moment to write - am out doors in a rain - will
write you all particulars when I get a chance. We
start just as soon as we can get our breakfast to follow
them to Alexandria. We made a forced march
to get here to the battle - travelled about 65 miles
without stopping. My love to all of you. In haste.
Yours devotedly,
Fairfax Court House, July 24th, 1861.
My dearest Pauline:
When, late in the evening, the Yankees gave way,
they seemed overwhelmed with confusion and despair.
They abandoned everything - arms, wagons, horses,
ammunition, clothing, all sorts of munitions of war.
They fled like a flock of panic-stricken sheep. We
took enough arms, accoutrements, etc. to equip the
whole army. They were splendidly equipped, had
every imaginable comfort and convenience which
Yankee ingenuity could devise.
The fight would not have been half so long had it
been an open-field one, but the Yankees were protected
by a thick pine woods, so that it was almost
impossible to get at them with the cavalry. They
never once stood to a clash of the bayonet - always
broke and ran. In the evening, when they gave way,
the order was given to charge them. We were then
in the distant part of the field. In a moment we were
in full pursuit, and as we swept on by the lines of our
infantry, at full speed, the shouts of our victorious
soldiers rent the air. We pursued them for six or
eight miles, until darkness covered their retreat. The
whole road was blocked up with what they abandoned
in their flight. All our regiment (in fact, nearly
all the soldiers) now have splendid military overcoats
which they took. I have provided myself very well.
We took every piece of their artillery from them - 62
pieces - among them, one of the finest batteries in the
world. Their total loss cannot be less then 5000. Our
company is now equipped with Yankee tents, (I am
writing under one). We are also eating Yankee
provisions, as they left enough to feed the army a long
time . . . All of the Northern Congress came out
as spectators of the fight. A Senator was killed by a
cannon ball - Foster. All of our troops fought well,
but the Virginia troops bore the brunt of the battle,
especially Jackson's brigade. A Washington paper
says they were scarce of ammunition - a lie, for we
took enough from them to whip them over again.
Our Captain (who you know is an old army officer)
complimented our company very much for their coolness
and bravery in standing fire, - said that we stood
like old veterans. We were placed in the most trying
position in which troops can be placed, to be exposed
to a fire which you cannot return. . . . There was
scarcely a minute during the battle that I did not think
of you and my sweet babes. I had a picture of May
[his daughter] which I took out once and looked at.
For a moment the remembrance of her prattling
innocence almost unfitted me for the stern duties of a
soldier, - but a truce to such thoughts. We are now
marching on to bombard Washington City.
Fairfax Court House, July 27, 1861.
Dearest Pauline:
examined him, told him he was only scared to
death. He got up and left the field in double-quick
time. I could tell you of a good many such ludicrous
incidents.
One regiment of the New York Zouaves, commanded
by Colonel Ellsworth, went on a steamer
to Alexandria and landed under the guns of the
Pawnee. A Confederate flag was flying from the
top of a house which was owned by a citizen named
Jackson. Ellsworth went up and pulled down
the flag. As he descended the stairs, Jackson
shot him and was himself shot by a Union soldier.
On June 26, McDowell's total strength present
for duty was 153,682 men and twelve guns;
Patterson's was 14,344 men. Of McDowell's
twenty regiments, seventeen were three months'
men. With the exception of one infantry
regiment, four companies of cavalry, and three artillery
companies, Patterson's force was composed
of three months' men. Johnston's force at the
same time was 10,654 men and five or six batteries.
General Lee had selected Manassas Junction
as the point for the concentration of the Confederate
troops on account of its being in connection
with the Valley. Beauregard was in command
here, while Jackson and Johnston with their
forces were across the Blue Ridge in the Shenandoah
Valley. On June 15, Johnston retired
towards Winchester, because, as he said,
Patterson's army had reached the Potomac twenty
miles above, and he wanted to be in a position
to repel an invasion of the Valley, or quickly
to reinforce Beauregard at Manassas. Johnston
thought, so he said, that Patterson was making
a combined movement with McDowell, who was
expected to move from Washington on Richmond.
If so, Johnston at Harper's Ferry had the interior
line and the choice of reinforcing Beauregard or
striking Patterson. As Patterson hesitated, it
showed that he was afraid to cross the Potomac
with Johnston on his flank.
Johnston's movement to Winchester, which, as
I have said, was really a retreat, about doubled
the distance between him and Beauregard. If
he had really wanted to join Beauregard, his
quickest way to do it would have been to march
directly from Harper's Ferry to Bull Run. The
distance would have been shorter than his march
from Winchester to the railroad station, on his
way to Manassas. There he left nearly half of
his army for want of transportation. It is
remarkable, however, that Jackson's biographers,
Dabney, Cook, and Henderson, regarded the
retreat to Winchester as only a strategic move.
Jackson did not think so.
Jackson's brigade and Stuart's regiment of
cavalry were sent to observe Patterson on the
upper Potomac. Patterson had no cavalry for
outpost duty, while Johnston had the regiments of
Stuart and Ashby. Jackson's orders were to
feel out the enemy, but to avoid an engagement.
On July 2 Patterson crossed the Potomac, and
Jackson showed sufficient resistance to compel
him to display his force and retired as his orders
required. He was sure that Patterson had no
aggressive purpose, but was only making a feint
to create a diversion and retain Johnston in the
Valley, when McDowell moved against Beauregard
at Manassas. Jackson thought that a blow at
Patterson would have been the best way to
cooperate with Beauregard. As Jackson had strict
ideas of military discipline, he would not criticise
his superiors, and, although the order to fall
back was a disappointment, he did not, like
Achilles, sulk in his tent. But a letter he wrote
at the time to his wife, read between the lines,
shows the chagrin he felt.
Colonel Henderson, in his "Life of Jackson",
said:
At first even Jackson chafed. He was eager for
action. His experience at Falling Waters had given
him no exalted notion of the enemy's prowess and he
was ready to engage them singlehanded. "I want
my brigade," he said, "to feel that it can itself whip
Patterson's whole army and I believe that we can
do it."
On July 15, in obedience to General Scott's
orders, Patterson moved up the Valley, threw
some shells at Stuart's regiment, and then turned
squarely around and retreated towards Harper's
Ferry. The movement was so timid that it was
more a farce than a feint. Patterson was not
seeking a fight; his movement was only a blind.
If the Confederates had then taken the offensive,
there would have been a footrace towards the
Potomac, and McDowell would not have moved
against the troops at Manassas.
The most effective way to aid Beauregard was
to strike Patterson. The next year Jackson did
what should have been done in 1861. He turned
on Banks and swept him out of the Shenandoah
Valley, creating such alarm in Washington that
McDowell, who was moving from Fredericksburg
to join McClellan at Richmond, was recalled to
save the Capital.
The following dispatch to McClellan from
Mr. Lincoln shows what Jackson did in 1862
and what he would have done in 1861, if he had
been in command:
In consequence of
General Banks's critical position
I have been compelled to suspend General McDowell's
movements to join you. The enemy are making a
desperate push on Harper's Ferry and we are trying
to throw General Fremont's force and a part of
McDowell's in their rear.
In July 1861, the larger part of the troops
at Manassas should have gone to Johnston,
instead of his reinforcing Beauregard. That is,
if Johnston was willing to take the offensive and
cross the Potomac. That was the best way to
defend Richmond.
On July 17, McDowell began his movement
towards the Confederate Capital. Mr. Davis
telegraphed to Johnston at Winchester to join
Beauregard, if practicable. He said:
"made it doubtful whether General Johnston
had the power to effect the movement."
In the letters Johnston said that he had to
"defeat Patterson or elude him." It would
have been impossible for him to defeat Patterson
as the latter was running; as Patterson was
trying to elude Johnston, the latter had no trouble
in eluding Patterson.
On July 13 General Johnston telegraphed to
President Davis: "Unless he (Patterson) prevents
it, we shall move toward Beauregard to-day."
Up to that time Johnston does not seem to have
contemplated, nor was there any plan for, any
concerted action between Johnston and Beauregard.
The march to Manassas did not begin until
noon of the eighteenth. Jackson's brigade was
in the advance. It waded the Shenandoah,
climbed the Blue Ridge, and arrived at Manassas
by rail on the next day. When the troops left
Winchester, they could not have been expected
to join Beauregard at Manassas before a battle,
because McDowell's delay of three days at Centreville
could not have been anticipated. On the
seventeenth General Scott telegraphed Patterson
that McDowell would take Manassas the next
day, which probably would have been done if
Scott's program to cross the Occoquan and turn
the Confederate right had been carried out. But
McDowell changed the plan, waited to make
a reconnaissance on the Confederate left, and
decided to cross Bull Run at Sudley. Beauregard
was not expecting aid from Johnston, for in a
telegram to the War Department he said, "I
believe this proposed movement of General
Johnston is too late. Enemy will attack me in force
to-morrow morning."
When Johnston left the Valley, Patterson was
in camp at Charles Town. As late as the nineteenth
Patterson insisted that Johnston was at
Winchester receiving reinforcements; but on the
twentieth he acknowledged that Johnston had
gone. It was then too late for him to give assistance
to McDowell in the battle the next day.
When Patterson was reproached for what he had
not done, he consoled Scott by telling him that if
he had attacked Joe Johnston, he (Scott) would
have had to mourn the loss of two battles instead
of one.
Johnston arrived at Beauregard's headquarters
at Manassas at noon on July 20, but nearly half
of his army was left behind him. Beauregard's
army was posted on Bull Run at five or six fords
stretching from Stone Bridge to Union Mills,
a distance of eight miles. Bull Run is a creek
running through a largely wooded country, and
is passable anywhere but for its steep banks.
Johnston's troops were posted behind Beauregard's
at the fords, and Jackson was placed in
the rear of Bonham. McDowell's headquarters
were in plain view six miles distant at Centreville
and also in view of the signal station Captain
Alexander had established on the Manassas plain.
Beauregard proposed an offensive plan which
Johnston approved, but no attempt was made
to execute it. The battle was defensive on the
Confederate side. Early on the morning of the
twenty-first the signal officers discovered
McDowell's column marching towards Sudley to turn
our left at Stone Bridge. They reported the
movement to General Evans, who commanded
there, and to headquarters. Johnston's brigades
were in the rear of the fords as reserves ready to
be moved to any point on the line. As Bull Run
presented no defensive advantages, it is hard
to discover why that line was selected. No
matter whether Beauregard intended to act on
the offensive or defensive, his army should have
been concentrated at one or two fords, instead
of being distributed at several.
Long afterwards Beauregard claimed that Johnston
accepted his plan of battle, waived his rank,
and consented to act as his chief of staff. As
there was no emergency that required such an
abdication of authority, and as there was ample
time for Johnston to learn the conditions and get
all the topographical knowledge necessary, it
would have been shirking responsibility for him
to have done so. His objective, McDowell's
army, was in sight; he was near Bull Run, and
he could easily learn from maps where the fords
were and the roads that led to them. Beauregard
and his staff officers could have easily told
him how the troops were disposed. With such
explanation Johnston might, in an hour or so,
have taken in the whole situation. Very few
commanders were ever on the ground more than
a few hours before a battle; it is not their business
to act as guides - the country furnishes
plenty of them. Of course, generals must utilize
other men's knowledge.
But the inconsistency is that Beauregard claims
the credit as commander-in-chief for winning
the victory, but makes Johnston responsible for
the failure to reap the fruit of it. He contradicts
his own report, written a few days after the
battle, which says that the army, after the hard
day's fighting, was in no condition to pursue.
He did not seem to know that he had 15,000 fresh
men on the field and that the remainder of Johnston's
men arrived next morning. In his "Military
Memoirs", General Alexander, who was
chief signal officer and also in the evening carried
orders on the field, said:
But Johnston's endorsement on Beauregard's
order of battle shows that so far from waiving
he asserted his rank as commander. Here it is:
4.30 A.M., July 21st.
The plan of battle
given by General Beauregard
in the above order is approved and will be executed
accordingly.
(Signed) J. E. Johnston,
still is that Beauregard's order of battle, although
it contemplated the offensive, is dated at 4.30
A.M. July 21, long after McDowell's army was
in motion. McDowell issued his order of battle
on the twentieth.
I had felt anxious about the road from Manassas
by Blackburn's Ford to Centreville along this ridge,
fearing that while we should be in force to the front
and endeavoring to turn the enemy's position, we
ourselves should be turned by him by this road. For if
he should once obtain possession of this ridge, which
overlooks all the country to the west to the foot of the
spurs to the Blue Ridge, we should have been irretrievably
cut off and destroyed. I had, therefore, directed
this point to be held in force, and sent an engineer to
extemporize some field works to strengthen the position. . . .
The divisions were ordered to march at
2.30 o'clock A.M., so as to arrive on the ground early
in the day and thus avoid the heat which is to be
expected at this season.
that event McDowell said his army would have
been destroyed. McDowell saw more clearly
than the Confederate generals what they ought
to do, but he trusted to their not doing it. Beauregard's
first plan for a simultaneous advance from
all the Bull Run fords to Centreville was impracticable
in the wooded country, and it was well
that no attempt was made to execute it. His
line of battle would have been several miles long.
General Johnston arrived here about noon of the
both of July, and being my senior in rank he necessarily
assumed command of the forces of the Confederate
States then concentrating at this point. Made
acquainted with my plan of operations and dispositions
to meet the enemy, he gave them his entire
approval and generously directed their execution under
my command.
Beauregard said that, being informed at 5.30
A.M. that a strong force was deployed in front of
Stone Bridge, he ordered Evans and Cocke to
maintain their positions to the last extremity,
and that he thought the most effective method
of relieving his left was by making a determined
attack by his right. No doubt that was so. He
knew, long before McDowell reached Sudley,
that Ewell, Holmes, Jones, and Early had not
advanced on Centreville, and there was then
abundance of time for them to have reached
Centreville before McDowell reached Sudley.
But he said that the news from the left afterwards
changed his plan. As it was clear that
McDowell was making only a feeble demonstration
in our front and none on our right, he must
have known early in the morning that the main
portion of his army was moving against our left.
He could not have expected McDowell to stand
still; nor does he give a satisfactory reason for
a change of plan, but the reverse. McDowell
was doing what he ought to have wanted him to do.
At 7.10 A.M., D. R. Jones, whose brigade was
at McLean's Ford near headquarters, said he
received the following order:
General:
July 21st, 1861
It is clear that Bonham received no orders to
cross the Run, as he did not attempt it, although
the enemy opened fire on him early in the morning.
He said that before daylight one of his
aides, General McGowan, brought intelligence
that the enemy was moving on his left, and that
he arose and with a field glass discovered the
enemy moving on the pike to Stone Bridge.
He said that he immediately communicated the
news to headquarters and directed his command
to prepare for action, as he supposed "an assault
would be made early along our whole line."
But no such assault was ordered.
Early, who was near McLean's farm in support
of Longstreet, did not mention receiving any
order to move on Centreville; neither did Jackson,
who was supporting Bonham at Mitchell's
Ford. He simply got an order to place himself
in position where he could reinforce either Cocke
or Bonham. In the meantime Jackson ascertained
that Bee, who had been sent with his
own and Bartow's brigades to reinforce Evans,
was hard pressed. He seems to have moved,
in the exercise of his own discretion, where the
sound of the cannon indicated that the real conflict
was. When he reached the plateau where
the Henry house stood, he met the shattered
brigades of Bee and Bartow retreating. Jackson
formed his brigade on the crest of the ridge,
which will forever be associated with his name.
A fresh brigade was drawn up in line on the elevated
ground known as Henry House Hill and its
commander, till then unknown, was henceforth to be
called Stonewall. Bee rode up to him and said
"General, they are driving us!" "Then, Sir," said
Jackson, "we must give them the bayonet." Bee
galloped among his retreating men and called out
to them: "See Jackson standing like a stone wall -
rally behind the Virginians." It was at this moment
when Jackson's and Hampton's were the only organized
troops opposing the Federal advance and Bee
and Bartow were attempting to rally their broken
forces, that Johnston and Beauregard reached the
field.
Jones said that after getting the order from
Beauregard to cross the Run and follow Ewell,
he sent a message to Ewell but crossed and took
a position on the road from Union Mills to Centreville
and waited for Ewell. In the meantime he
received the following order directing him to return:
General Jones:
The sound of the battle now informed our
generals where the main effort of the enemy
would be made. The "difficulties" in his front,
of which Beauregard spoke in his note to Jones
as the cause for revoking the order to advance,
instead of deterring should have encouraged him
to take the offensive. It was now clear that
there was only a small force between him and the
enemy's rear at Centreville. Hunter's and Heintzelman's
divisions reached Sudley Ford, at least
eight miles away, about 9.30 A.M. They halted
for rest and for the men to fill their canteens from
the stream. The main body of the Confederate
army was then about half the distance from Centreville
that Sudley is. The three brigades of Miles
that were in reserve on the road to Blackburn's
and McLean's fords could easily have been
brushed aside before any reinforcements could
have reached them. Then one of his brigade
commanders, Richardson, reported that Colonel
Stevens, who commanded a regiment there, said,
"We have no confidence in Colonel Miles, because
Colonel Miles is drunk;" all of which was
in our favor. It was much better for the Confederates
if Ewell's and Jones's forward movements
were delayed until nine o'clock by a miscarriage
of orders, for by that time McDowell
had progressed too far to turn back when he
heard of it.
When at Austerlitz Napoleon saw the allies
marching towards his rear, he told his marshals
to be quiet, not to interrupt them. After their
movement had developed sufficiently, he struck
such a blow as Johnston and Beauregard might
have repeated at Centreville. McDowell dreaded
such a counterstroke, and in the morning on the
road to Sudley he halted Howard and kept his
brigade in reserve near the pike until noon to
meet such a contingency. On the field McDowell
saw what he might do; and reports from the signal
stations and heavy firing told Johnston and
Beauregard what they could do - that the enemy
had exposed his rear. But "in my judgment,"
said Beauregard, "it was now (10.30 A.M.) too
late for the contemplated movement." Napoleon
would have thought it was the hour for it
to begin. It is a mystery why the Confederate
generals abandoned their plan - if they ever
had such a plan.
Alexander said, "About 8 A.M. Johnston and
Beauregard, accompanied by their staffs and
couriers, rode to the vicinity of Mitchell's Ford,
where they left their party under cover and took
position on an open hill some 200 yards to the
left of the road."
Richardson was in their front, making a feint
by shelling the woods. If he had intended a real
attack, he would not have halted. The resistance
made by Evans's small force on the Sudley
road showed that, with reinforcement of Cocke's
brigade at the ford below, McDowell's turning
column could have been held in check until ours
took Centreville. The fact is that the roaring
guns and the despairing cry for help from Centreville
would have stampeded McDowell. General
Johnston said the news from our left made their
plan impracticable. I think it showed not only
that it was practicable, but a dead sure thing if
they had attempted to execute it. McDowell
thought so too. I am not judging the Confederate
generals by the lights that are now before me
but by what their reports say was before them then.
As he rode out in the morning, Beauregard directed
me to go with a courier to the Wicoxen signal station
and remain in general observation of the field, sending
messages of all I could discover. I went reluctantly
as the opportunity seemed very slight of rendering
any service. There were but two signal stations on our
line of battle - one in rear of McLean's Ford and one
near Van Pelt's house on a bluff a few hundred yards
to the left and rear of Stone Bridge. Beyond the
latter the broad, level valley of Bull Run for some
miles with its fields and pastures as seen through the
glass was foreshortened into a narrow band of green.
While watching the flag of this station with a good
glass, when I had been there about half an hour, the
sun being in the east behind me, my eye was caught
by a glitter in this narrow band of green. I recognized
it at once as the reflection of the morning sun from a
brass field piece. Closer scrutiny soon revealed the
glittering of bayonets and masked barrels. It was
about 8.45 A.M., and I had discovered McDowell's
turning column the head of which at this hour was just
arriving at Sudley, eight miles away. I appreciated
how much it might mean and thought it best to give
Evans immediate notice, even before sending word
to Beauregard. So I signalled Evans quickly, "Look
out for your left, you are turned." Evans afterwards
told me that a picket, which he had at Sudley, being
driven in by the enemy's advanced guard, had sent
a courier, and the two couriers, one with my signal
message and one with the report of the picket, reached
him together. The simultaneous reports from different
sources impressed him, and he acted at once
with sound judgment. He left four companies of
his command to watch the bridge and the enemy in
his front - Tyler and his three brigades. With the
remainder of his force (six companies of the 4th S. C.
and Wheat's La. Battalion) he marched to oppose
and delay the turning column, at the same time notifying
Cocke, next on his right, of his movement. . . .
Having sent Evans notice of his danger, I next wrote
to Beauregard as follows: "I see a body of troops
crossing Bull Run about two miles above the Stone
Bridge The head of the column is in the woods on
this side. The rear of the column is in the woods on
the other side. About half a mile of its length is
visible in the open ground between. I can see both
infantry and artillery."
About 8 o'clock General Beauregard and I placed
ourselves on a commanding hill in rear of Gen Bonham's
left (Mitchell's Ford). Near nine o'clock the
signal officer, Captain Alexander, reported that a
large body of troops was crossing the Valley of Bull
Run some two miles above the bridge. General Bee,
who had been placed near Col. Cocke's position, Col.
Hampton with his legion, and Colonel Jackson from
a point near Gen. Bonham's left were ordered to
hasten to the left flank.
For a long time there was little change and the
battle seemed to stand still. When Evans and Bee
were broken by Sherman's attack on the flank, their
retreat was specially pressed by the Federal artillery
On reaching the Warrenton pike they were met by the
Hampton Legion and Hampton made an earnest effort
to rally the retreating force upon his command The
ground, however, was unfavorable and though Hampton
made a stubborn fight (losing 121 out of 600 men)
and delaying the advance near two hours before leaving
the pike, our whole line then fell back under the
enemy's fire.
and Beauregard appeared. Johnston took up
his headquarters a short distance in the rear to
direct reinforcements, while the immediate conduct
of the battle was left to Beauregard. His
task was to hold the line until fresh troops could
be brought upon the scene. McDowell's last
chance was to crush Beauregard's line at once
before any reinforcements arrived. Some of his
brigades were absent - Burnside's had drawn
off for rest and ammunition - and his partial
attacks only consumed time.
About three o'clock Kirby Smith's brigade
arrived, and it was closely followed by Early's
brigade and Beckham's battery. Kirby Smith
was severely wounded just as he was extending
his line on our left, and Elzey took command.
Kirby Smith was the first man I ever saw carried
from the field on a stretcher. About four o'clock
Beauregard advanced his whole line, and the
18th Virginia under Colonel Withers, the 8th
Virginia under Colonel Hunton, and the Hampton
Legion with Jackson's brigade swept the field
and turned the enemy's guns on them. Early,
with Beckham's battery and Stuart's cavalry,
crossed the Warrenton pike and opened on the
flank and rear of a new line which McDowell
had formed. This force had no artillery to reply
to ours, and it soon broke. McDowell said
"The retreat soon became a rout and this soon
degenerated into a panic."
Heintzelman said, "Such a rout I never witnessed
before."
In the meantime I sent orders for the Zouaves to move
forward to support Ricketts' battery on its right. As
soon as they came up I led them forward against an
Alabama regiment, partly concealed in a clump of small
pines in an old field. At the first fire they broke and
the greater portion fled to the rear, keeping up a desultory
fire over the heads of their comrades in front. At
the same time they were charged by a company of
Secession cavalry on their rear, who had come by a road
through two strips of woods on our extreme right.
The evanescent courage of the Zouaves prompted
them to fire perhaps a hundred shots, when they broke
and fled, leaving the batteries open to a charge of the
enemy's cavalry, which took place immediately. . . .
Soon the slopes behind us were swarming with our
retreating and disorganized forces, whilst riderless
horses and artillery teams ran furiously through the
flying crowd.
After the battle had shifted, Alexander joined
Beauregard. He said that Jackson alone of the
Confederate leaders on the field gave any evidence
of his appreciation of the victory. After the war
Doctor Edward Campbell, a surgeon of Jackson's
brigade, told me that Jackson said to him,
"I wonder if General Johnston and General
Beauregard know how badly they (the enemy)
are whipped. If they will let me, I will march
my brigade into Washington to-night."
Jackson's offer to take Washington City the next
morning with 5000 men had been made to the President
as he arrived upon the field; probably about five
o'clock. It was not sunset until 7.15 and there was
nearly a full moon. But the President himself and
both Generals spent these precious hours in riding
over the field where the conflict had taken place. . . .
Johnston and Beauregard both sent orders to different
commands to make such advances, but neither went in
person to supervise or urge forward the execution of the
order, though time was of the essence. [The italics are
Alexander's.]
a blockade by which a good deal of artillery was
lost. On his way back to Beauregard, Alexander
met a staff officer carrying an order for all the
troops to return.
Alexander was at the council of Mr. Davis
and the generals that night at Manassas. The
conclusion was reached to make a reconnaissance
the next morning. Some cavalry scouting parties
were sent, who saw nothing but the wreck of
McDowell's army. It would have been as easy
to have found that out before midnight as in the
morning, if they had tried, as no attempt was
made to rally the retreating army.
The larger part of the men are a confused mob,
entirely demoralized. It was the opinion of all the
commanders that no stand could be made this side of
the Potomac. . . . They are now passing through
this place in a state of utter disorganization.
The capture of Washington now seems to be inevitable;
during the whole of Monday and Tuesday it
might have been taken without resistance. The rout,
overthrow, and demoralization of the army is complete.
On the caisson attached to one of Kemper's
guns, when it swept over Bull Run, was an old
Virginian, whose long white hair hung over his
shoulders and gave him the look of a patriarch.
When Kemper unlimbered near Cub Run, he
claimed the privilege of firing the first gun. He
had done the same when Beauregard opened
his batteries on Sumter. When the curtain was
let down on the last scene at Appomattox, he
blew out his brains and ended life's fitful fever.
In his report General Johnston said that "our
victory was as complete as one gained by infantry
and artillery can be." He took no account of
Stuart's charge at a critical moment when the
Zouaves were coming upon Jackson's flank; nor
of the fact that his army exceeded McDowell's
in numbers, and had three or four times as much
cavalry. The returns show that in Beauregard
army that day there were 1468 cavalry, and that
Stuart, who had come from the Shenandoah
Valley, had twelve companies. Besides, Ashby
arrived the day after the battle with a cavalry
regiment. Johnston and Beauregard had a total
of effectives that day of 31,982 men and fifty-five
guns, although they sent only two guns over
the Run in pursuit. McDowell's total was 29,862
men and but seven companies of cavalry. Cavalry
is needed as much to cover a retreat as to pursue.
We had enough cavalry to have taken Washington.
It is true, as General Johnston said,
that the city is situated on an unfordable river;
but less than twenty miles above is a ford at
Seneca where Stuart crossed going to Gettysburg,
and I often afterwards crossed there. Our cavalry
were nearer Seneca than McDowell's army
was to Washington when the retreat began, and
ought to have crossed the Potomac that night.
The next day it could have easily moved around
towards Baltimore, broken communications, and
isolated Washington.
It is paradoxical but true that the Confederate
cause was lost at Bull Run. Yet the victory
reflected on those who won it all "the glory that
was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome."
And no matter now what men may speculate
as to what might have been, cold must be the
heart that can read that glorious record and not -
"Feel
sympathy with suns that set."
Fairfax Court House, July 29, 1861.
Dearest Pauline:
fell, shot through the head. We were perfectly helpless,
as it was dark and they were concealed in the
bushes. The best of it was that the Yankees shot
three of their own men, - thought they were ours.
. . . Beauregard has no idea of attacking Alexandria.
When he attacks Washington he will go about
Alexandria to attack Washington. No other news. For one
week before the battle we had an awful time, - had
about two meals during the whole time, - marched two
days and one night on one meal, in the rain, in order
to arrive in time for the fight. . . . We captured a
great quantity of baggage left here by the Yankees;
with orders for it to be forwarded to Richmond.
Fairfax Court House, August 18, 1861.
My dearest Pauline:
us a good deal of fun. He is one of the most pompous
fellows you ever saw. He went with us on picket one
night, - got scared, - ran to us and swore he had
ridden through a whole regiment of the enemy's
infantry. The whole truth was there was not a Yankee
in three miles of him.
Fairfax Court House, September 2, 1861.
My dearest Pauline:
- came to where our pickets were stationed, - they
were in full view of the Yankees, a few hundred yards
off on the opposite hill. The Yankees were firing at
our men with long range guns, but ours could not
return it, as they have only old muskets. I have a
splendid Sharp's carbine, which will kill at a thousand
yards. I dismounted . . . and turned loose on them.
. . . I had to fire at them most of the time in a thick
field of corn, - of course, could not tell the effect, - but
once, when a fellow ran out into the road (in which I
stood) to shoot at me, it took several to carry him back.
Camp near Fairfax Court House,
Dear Liz: [Mosby's sister]
Camp near Fairfax Court House,
My dearest Pauline:
full view of the Capitol. I went to take a view of it
with Lloyd. We could see it distinctly, with all their
fortifications and the stars and stripes floating over it.
I thought of the last time I had seen it, for you were
there with me, and I could not but feel some regrets
that it was no longer the Capitol of my Country, but
that of a foreign foe.
Camp near Fairfax,
My dearest Pauline:
Camp Cooper, November 21, 1861.
My dearest Pauline:
- 1862.
My dearest Pauline:
- his doctoring the sick men 1 during the battle. He
is a good deal thought of in the company.
never submit to such an indignity and breach of
neutrality.
War between England and the United States
was considered inevitable, and we could almost
hear the roar of English guns dispersing the fleets
which were blockading our coasts. With England
as an ally of the South our success was certain.
But the Administration wisely yielded to
England's demand and surrendered the captives.
Mr. Seward, in a letter to Lord Lyons, ingeniously
maintained that he was consistent in so
doing, and that in demanding their release England
had at last claimed for neutrals the rights
for which the United States had always contended.
Mason and Slidell were transferred to an English
gunboat lying off Cape Cod, and thus withered
our hopes of having England as an ally.
There was no longer a casus belli.
The Richmond Examiner, January 1, 1862, said
of this affair: "The year which has just begun
opens with evil tidings. We fear there is no
doubt of the fact that the Northern Union has
consented to the surrender of Mason and Slidell,
and with that event all hopes of an immediate
alliance between the Southern Confederacy and
Great Britain must cease."
It happened that I brought to the camps in
Fairfax the first news of the capture of Mason
and Slidell. Fitzhugh Lee took a part of my
regiment on a scout and we came upon the Brooklyn
14th that was doing picket duty. They wore
red breeches, so we called them the red-legged
Yankees. As soon as we got in sight of them we
charged. A portion of them were in a dense
thicket, which we couldn't penetrate on horse
back, and so a few of us dismounted and charged
on foot, with carbines, to the point where the
reserve had a fire. We took a number of prisoners
and I picked up a newspaper. It was about
sundown; the paper was a copy of the Washington
Star of that evening, and had an account
of the capture of Mason and Slidell. When we
brought the prisoners to Fitz Lee, I said, "Colonel,
here's a copy of to-day's paper." Fitz Lee replied,
"The ruling passion strong in death,"
referring to my reputation of always being the
first man in the company to get hold of a newspaper.
Colonel Jones sent the paper to General
Johnston's headquarters at Centreville.
A popular notion has prevailed that a great
benefit would have resulted to the South if England
and France had received our ministers and
established diplomatic relations with the Southern
Confederacy. I never thought so, unless they
had gone further and intervened in our behalf,
as France did with the Colonies, and sent their
fleets to break the blockade. In that event they
would have become parties to the war. When
they proclaimed their neutrality and accorded
us belligerent rights and the hospitality of their
ports to Confederate cruisers, they just as much
recognized the independence of the South as if
they had officially received its ministers. The
human mind cannot conceive of belligerent rights
except as attached to a supreme independent power.
There was a great deal of complaint against
England for her haste in proclaiming neutrality
and thus recognizing the belligerent character
of the contest. But the Congress called by Mr.
Lincoln, in July, 1861, before Bull Run had been
fought, as Webster said about Bunker Hill, elevated
an insurrection into a public war. It passed
an act forbidding commercial intercourse between
persons living north and south of the Potomac,
and declaring the forfeiture of goods caught in
transit and also the seizure of vessels on the high
seas as enemy property, if the owners lived in
the South. It also declared that such seizures
and intercourse should be governed, not by the
municipal law of the country, but by the law of
nations. It thus recognized our sectional conflict
as a public territorial war and not, like the Wars
of the Roses, a contest of factions.
The law of nations regulates the relations of
alien enemies in war and can have no application
to citizens of the same country. This act of
Congress was a declaration of a war inter gentes,
as much so as that between France and Prussia.
The Amy Warwick, owned in Richmond, sailed
from Rio without notice of the blockade. She
was seized on the voyage and condemned as a
prize of war. It was contended that there was
no proof that her owner was in rebellion. But the
Supreme Court held that international law took no
notice of the personal sentiments of individuals, but
that their domicile determined their legal status.
The Commanding General calls upon the twelve-months'
men to stand by their brave comrades who
have volunteered for the war, to revolunteer at once
and thus show the world that the patriots who engaged
in this struggle do not swerve from the bloodiest path
they may be called to tread.
Above all I am anxious that my brave countrymen
here in arms fronting the haughtily arrayed master of
Northern mercenaries should thoroughly appreciate
the exigency, and hence comprehend that this is no
time for the Army of the Potomac - the men of
Manassas - to stack their arms and quit, even for a
brief period, the standards they have made glorious by
their manhood.
to be in the military service of the Confederate States."
The conscription law increased the numbers
but impaired the esprit de corps of the volunteer
army that won the victory of Manassas, - the
flower of Southern manhood had been gathered
there. But the law saved the Confederacy from
the danger of collapse without another battle
through the disbandment of its army. After the
war I heard severe criticism of the Conscription
Act which, in fact, saved the Confederacy -
for a time.
day, and took my seat in the carriage with the
ladies. It was a raw, cold morning, and it soon
began to snow. We arrived at our journey's
end in the evening, and I then started for Stuart's
headquarters. When I reached there it was
dark, and the snow was still falling. Although
I had been in Stuart's regiment from the beginning
of the war, I had no acquaintance with him and
no reason to suppose that he had ever heard of
me. So I went into the house, reported to him
that I had left the ladies at their destination, and
asked him for a pass, as my camp on the Bull
Run was several miles away. The sentinels
would not let me go back without one.
Now the weather would not have been any
more severe on me if I had walked back to camp
that night than if I had stayed on picket. I never
dreamed of Stuart's inviting me to spend the
night at headquarters, or that I should ever rise
to intimacy with him. There could have been
nothing prepossessing in my general appearance
to induce him to make an exception of me, for
I was as roughly dressed as any common soldier.
But he told me the weather was too bad and to
stay there that night. Of course I obeyed and
took my seat before a big, blazing fire. Both of
the generals were sitting there, but I felt so small
in their presence that I looked straight into the
fire and never dared to raise my head. I would
have felt far more comfortable trudging back
to camp through the snow. Presently a boy
announced that supper was ready. The generals
arose and, as Stuart walked into the supper room,
he told me to come in and get some supper. I
was astonished and kept my seat. Stuart
observed my absence from the table and sent for
me. So I obeyed, went in, and took a seat with
the generals. I do not think I raised my eyes
from my plate, although they chatted freely.
When it was time to go to sleep Stuart had some
blankets spread on the floor, and I was soon
snoring. The same thing happened in the morning
- a boy announced breakfast - Stuart told
me to come in, and I again stayed behind - and
he had to send for me.
It has always been a mystery to me why Stuart
made me his guest that night and did not put
me with his couriers - which would have been
more agreeable to me. After breakfast Stuart
sent me, mounted, to my camp, with a courier
to bring back the horse I rode. So here began
my friendship for Stuart which lasted as long as
he lived. It is a coincidence that it began on the
very day I received my first promotion. I had
scarcely reached our camp when a message came
from the commander of the regiment, Colonel
Jones, to come to his tent. I went, and he offered
me the position of adjutant. I was as much
astonished as I had been the night before to be
asked to sit at the table with the generals. Of
course I was glad to accept it, and Jones wrote
to the War Department requesting my appointment.
The Journal of the Confederate Senate
shows that I was confirmed to take rank from
February 17, 1861. I have always had a repugnance
to ceremonials and was not half so much
frightened in the battle of Bull Run as I was on
the first dress parade I conducted. On such
occasions the adjutant is the most conspicuous
figure. I never could repeat the formulas of the
regulations, and for this reason I remember the few
weeks I served as an adjutant with less satisfaction
than any other portion of my life as a soldier.
A greater blunder was never committed in
war than when General Albert Sidney Johnston
sent Floyd, Buckner, and Pillow down the
Cumberland River, with about 17,000 troops, to hold
a fort situated in the angle made by the confluence
of the Cumberland and a deep, unfordable
creek. There was no line of retreat open by land
and no transportation provided for escape by
water, in case of defeat. The Confederates were
caught in a trap, and their surrender was, of
course, inevitable. The first attacks of the gunboats
under Commodore Foote were repulsed,
and in the evening the situation was about the
same as it had been in the morning. But Buckner
and Pillow seemed to think that their men would
not fight any longer, although they had an abundance
of rations, and Floyd swore that he would
not surrender either himself or his brigade.
Floyd was the senior officer, and it was agreed
that he should turn over the command to Pillow,
who was next in rank, and that he, in turn, should
turn it over to Buckner. Floyd with his brigade
escaped at night on two steamboats that happened
to come down with supplies from Nashville
that evening. Pillow in some way got to
the opposite bank of the river and left his troops
behind him. It has never been explained why a few
boats were not on hand to set the Confederates over
the river, when resistance became hopeless, or why
the two which Floyd took were not used during the
night to convey the army to the other bank.
At daybreak Buckner ordered a parley to be
sounded and capitulated to Grant without conditions.
He did not even get as good terms as
General Lee got for the fragment of his army at
Appomattox. Mr. Davis relieved both Floyd
and Pillow of command, but with strange inconsistency
he praised General Johnston for putting
them in a hole where they fought for two days
to get out. The affair of Donelson was a most
discreditable thing to our side of the war.
Camp of 1st Cavalry,
Dear Pauline:
doubt. But they have not made the first step towards
subjugation. Nothing can reverse my own decision
to stay in the foremost ranks, "where life is lost or
freedom won." I want to see in Southern women
some of that Spartan heroism of the mother who said
to her son, when she buckled on his armor: "Return
with your shield or return upon it." Our army is now
falling back from Centreville, but whether to Manassas
or Gordonsville I don't know. We haven't moved our
camp.
A considerable Union force followed our regiment
as we withdrew along the railroad, and when
it got near our picket line on Cedar Run, it deployed
in an open field and made a great display.
Jones was on the picket line that day, and I was with
him and witnessed the exhibition. The pickets
withdrew, and the enemy occupied the ground on
which we had been for several days. That night
my regiment camped near Bealeton Station.
The next morning I rode there and met Stuart.
The enemy was already in sight and advancing.
I had become pretty well acquainted with Stuart
after I became an adjutant and had already
conducted several scouting expeditions for him.
As we met that morning, he said to me very
earnestly, - he seemed puzzled, - "General
Johnston wants to know if McClellan's army is
following us, or if this is only a feint he is making."
Evidently Stuart wanted me to find out
for him, but did not like to order me. I saw the
opportunity for which I had longed and said
in a self-confident tone, "I will find out for you,
if you will give me a guide." He gave me one
who knew the road, and with two others of my
party I started around the flank of the hostile
column and got in its rear while it was advancing
to the Rappahannock. As the enemy moved
south and we went north, my party was in its
rear when the Union column reached the Rappahannock
and began shelling the Confederates
who had just crossed.
As we were behind the enemy, we soon
discovered that an isolated body was following
Johnston, and that it kept up no line of communication
with Washington. It was clear that the
movement was a mask to create a diversion and
cover some operation. Of course, I was proud
to have made the discovery, and I rode nearly
all night to report it to Stuart. When we got
near the river, we halted at a farmhouse, for there
was danger of being shot by our own pickets
if we attempted to cross the river in the dark.
As soon as it was daylight, I started, leaving my
companions asleep. A picket halted me when
I got halfway across the river, and it was with
great difficulty that I could persuade him not to
fire. At last I made him ashamed of himself
when I told him I was only one man and asked
him if he was afraid of one Yankee. He told me
to come on, but he kept his gun levelled at me.
I went on at a gallop and found Stuart with
General Ewell, whose division was in line of
battle expecting the enemy to attempt to cross
the river - a heavy fog concealed their backward
movement. I told Stuart that there was no support
behind the force in front, and that it was
falling back. A curtain of cavalry had been left
behind to cover the retreat. Our cavalry was
immediately ordered in pursuit, and I went with
it. In the rapture of the moment Stuart told
me I could get any reward I wanted. His report
confirms this statement about the information
that was obtained - but I got no reward.
Culpeper Co.,
My dearest Pauline:
prisoners, 16 horses, arms, etc. General Stuart was so
much pleased with my conduct that he wrote a report
to General Johnston commending me very highly and
also recommending my promotion.
April 25, 1862.
My dearest Pauline:
Richmond, June 2, 1862.
My dearest Pauline:
I went down over the battlefield yesterday. Our
men were all among the enemy's tents, which were
still standing, their camp kettles on the fire, etc. We
whipped them in their fortifications. . . . General
Lee is now in command, General Johnston being
wounded. . . . There is so much confusion in Richmond
that I do not know whether I can get your
memorandum filled to-day. There is nothing like a
panic, everybody being engaged in preparing to take
care of the wounded.
One morning I was at breakfast with Stuart,
and he said that he wanted to find out if McClellan
was fortifying on the Totopotomy, a creek that
empties into the Pamunkey. I was glad to go
for him and started off with three men. But we
found a flag of truce on the road and turned off
to scout in another direction - I did not want
to go back without doing something. We did
not get the information for which we were sent,
but we did get intelligence of even more value.
We penetrated McClellan's lines and discovered
that for several miles his right flank had only
cavalry pickets to guard his line of communication
with his depot at the White House on the
Pamunkey. Here, it seemed to me, was an opportunity
to strike a blow. McClellan had not anticipated
any such move and had made no provision against it.
On discovering the conditions, I hastened back
to Stuart and found him sitting in the front yard.
It was a hot day - I was tired and lay down on
the grass to tell him what I had learned. A
martinet would have ordered me to stand in his
presence. He listened to my story and, when
I had finished, told me to go to the adjutant's
office and write it down. At the same time he
ordered a courier to get ready to go with him to
General Lee's headquarters. I did as he requested
and brought him a sheet of paper with what I
had written. After reading it, Stuart called my
attention to its not being signed. I signed it,
although I had thought he only wanted a memorandum
of what I had said - General Lee had
never heard of me. Stuart took the paper and
went off with a courier at a gallop. As soon as
he returned, orders were issued to the cavalry
to be ready.
General Lee's instructions authorizing the
expedition were dated June 11. I had reported
the day before. On the morning of the twelfth
with 1200 cavalry and two pieces of artillery
Stuart passed through Richmond and took the
road towards Ashland. I was at headquarters
when Stuart was leaving. The officer in charge
asked him when he would be back. His answer
was, "It may be for years, it may be forever."
His spirits were buoyant.
The column moved on to Old Church in Hanover
where two squadrons of U. S. regular cavalry
were stationed under the command of Captain
Royall. When the pickets were chased
in, Royall heard the firing and went to their
support. He had no cause to suspect the numbers
he was meeting, for McClellan had never
even considered the possibility of a force breaking
through his lines and passing around him. A
squadron of the Ninth Virginia Cavalry led our
column. Captain Latané was in command. A
charge was ordered, and in the combat Royall
was wounded and routed, and Latané was killed.
We could not stay to give him even a hasty burial.
Our forces soon had possession of the abandoned
camp and, as the enemy had had no time to pack
up, there was a festival.
We were now on the flank of the enemy but
nine miles from the railroad which was his line
of communication. The question which Stuart
had to determine was whether to go on or turn
back. We were near the Pamunkey, and if we
kept on, the road would soon be closed behind
us. The only way of return would then be to
pass around McClellan. I felt great anxiety
for fear that Stuart would halt, for I realized
that there was a chance for him to do something
that had never been done. His decision
to go on showed that he possessed true military genius.
Just before Stuart gave the order for us to
move, he turned to me and said, "I want you to
go on some distance ahead." "Very well," said
I, "but give me a guide." Two soldiers who
knew the roads were ordered to go with me. I was
proud to be selected for such a duty and was
full of enthusiasm. We had not gone far before
Stuart sent one of his staff to tell me to go faster
and increase the distance between us. As we
jogged along two miles in advance of the column,
we came upon a cutler's wagon. It was filled
with so many tempting things which we had not
seen for nearly two years that we felt as if the
blockade had been raised. We exercised the
belligerent right of search. At the same time
I could see, about a mile away in the Pamunkey
River, a forest of masts of schooners which were
unloading supplies into a train of wagons ready
to carry them to the army. So I sent one man
back to tell Stuart to hurry and capture the prizes
and put the other as a guard over the sutler. I
then went on alone. When Stuart came up, he
sent a squadron to burn the schooners and the
wagon train. Capturing watercraft was a novel
experiment in cavalry tactics. At a bend in the
road, I came upon a vidette and a cutler's wagon;
they submitted quietly. Just then a bugle
sounded, and I saw a body of cavalry a few hundred
yards away. Fugitives from the camp we
had captured had given the alarm, and the second
troop was getting ready to leave. As soon as
the head of our column appeared, the enemy's
force at once disappeared.
Appreciating the public interest in the recital of
everything connected with the recent exploit of General
Stuart's cavalry in his reconnaissance through
the enemy's lines, we have gathered, from reliable
participants in the affair, these additional particulars.
After destroying the enemy's camp near the old church,
Lieutenant John S. Mosby, aid to General Stuart
and who had been most daring and successful as a
scout was sent on in advance, with a single [sic]
guide, towards Tunstall Station, to reconnoitre and
ascertain the position and force of the enemy. On
his way he met two Yankees whom he took prisoners
and sent to the rear in charge of his guide. Alone he
pushed on and overtook a cavalryman and an artilleryman
of the enemy's forces, having in charge a quartermaster's
wagon and stores. Lieutenant Mosby dashed
up and, drawing his pistols, demanded their surrender.
The New Yorker surrendered at once, but the Pennsylvanian,
beginning to fumble for his pistol, the lieutenant
made a more emphatic demand for his surrender,
and at the same moment compelled him to look quite
closely into the muzzle of his pistol. All this time
there was drawn up, not four hundred yards distant, a
company of Yankee cavalry in line of battle. In a
moment a bugle sounded as for a movement on him,
when, anxious to secure his prisoners and stores,
Lieutenant Mosby put spurs and galloped across the
field, at the same time shouting to his imaginary men
to follow him, when none of the Confederate cavalry
were in sight and the swiftest more than a mile in the
rear. The Yankees, hearing the word of command and
apprehending the descent of an avalanche of Confederate
cavalry upon them, broke line, each man galloping
off to take care of himself. The wagon, prisoners,
and stores were then secured and among them were
found forty splendid Colt's pistols with holsters, besides
boots, shoes, blankets, etc., etc.
A force was sent in pursuit of us under the
command of General St. George Cooke - Stuart's
father-in-law. Although the march of our column
was slow, we never saw an armed foe after we left
Royall's camp, except a small guard at the railroad.
General Warren, who commanded a brigade
behind us, said, "It was impossible for the
infantry to overtake him and as the cavalry
did not move without us, it was impossible for
them to overtake him." Fitz-John Porter regretted
that "When General Cooke did pursue,
he should have tied his legs with the infantry
command." As there were six cavalry regiments,
including all the regulars, with a battery, on
our track, it is hard to see why they wanted infantry.
Although more than forty-eight hours elapsed
between the time when we passed McClellan's
right flank and back around his left, he made
no attempt to intercept us. In making the
circuit of his army, the Confederate column
was at all times within five or six miles of his
headquarters, with two navigable rivers enclosing
it, and another river over which we had to build
a bridge in order to cross. McClellan was a
soldier of great organizing ability and trained
in the science of war - I mean in those operations
that can be regulated by rules. But he
had none of the inspiration that decides and
acts instantly, and he was now confronted by a
condition without a precedent. So he was helpless.
About daylight we reached a ford of the Chickahominy,
a narrow crooked stream which meanders
between the Pamunkey and the James. We had
crossed it on the morning before. Stuart had
expected to be able to ford this stream, but at
this point it was overflowing. A guide told us
of a bridge a mile below - or where one had been
- so the column was headed for that point.
When we got there, we found that the bridge
was gone, although the piles were standing
Near by were the remains of an old warehouse;
which furnished material for building another.
It was soon constructed - it seemed to rise
out of the water by magic. It may not have
been so good a bridge as Cæsar threw over the
Rhine, but it answered our purpose. While the
bridge was building, Stuart showed no anxiety
and was in as gay a humor as I ever saw him.
During the night I had provided for our
commissary department a lot of stores from the
sutlers' wagons, and these were soon spread about
on the grass. We had not been disturbed on
the night march, but just as the bridge was finished
a body of lancers came in sight and halted.
They had captured one of our men, a German,
whom we had to leave behind, as he was too full
of Rhine wine to travel. When we reached Westover,
the command was halted to rest and get
forage, for we knew that the road to Richmond
was open. Stuart now left Fitz Lee in command
and rode on to report to General Lee. The
column moved on by moonlight and at daybreak
was in sight of Richmond. The game was won.
I had ridden several miles ahead of the
column and met Stuart returning. Of course, he
was delighted to hear that the cavalry was safe.
To excuse himself for what he had not done,
McClellan, in a dispatch, tried to belittle this
affair by saying that Stuart's cavalry did nothing
but gain a little éclat; but it can be said with
more truth that he himself lost a good deal. It
was the first blow at his reputation.
The Comte de Paris, one of McClellan's staff
officers, said with more truth, "They had, in point
of fact, created a great commotion, shaken the
confidence of the North in McClellan, and made
the first experiment in those great cavalry
expeditions which subsequently played so novel
and important a part during the war."
Richmond, Monday,
My dearest Pauline:
Stuart, - suggested his going down, - he approved,
- asked me to give him a written statement of the
facts, and went immediately to see General Lee, who
also approved it. We were out nearly four days, -
rode continuously four days and nights, - found
among the Yankee camps and sutlers' stores every
luxury of which you ever conceived. I had no way of
bringing off anything. General Stuart gave me the
horses and equipments I captured. What little I
brought off is worth at least $350. Stuart does not
want me to go with Floyd, - told me before this affair
that I should have a commission, - on returning
yesterday he told me that I would have no difficulty
in doing so now. I met Wyndham Robertson on the
street to-day. He congratulated me on the success
of the exploit, and said I was the hero, and that he
intended to write an account of it for the papers, -
made me promise to dine with him to-day. I send
you some captured things, - the carpet was in an
officer's tent. . . . There is no prospect of a battle
here, - heavy reinforcements have been going to
Jackson. . . . I got two splendid army pistols.
Stuart's name is in every one's mouth now. I was in
both cavalry charges, - they were magnificent. . . .
I have been staying with General Stuart at his
headquarters. . . . The whole heavens were illuminated
by the flames of the burning wagons, etc. of the Yankees.
A good many ludicrous scenes I will narrate
when I get home. Richmond in fine spirits, - everybody
says it is the greatest feat of the war. I never
enjoyed myself so much in my life. . . .
Headquarters Cavalry Brigade,
Hon. Geo. W. Randolph,
General:
I am anxious that he should get the Captaincy of a
Company of Sharpshooters in my brigade, but the
muster rolls have not yet been sent in. I commend him
to your notice.
Most respectfully, General,
Richmond, July 4, 1862.
My dearest Pauline:
My dearest Pauline:
Pope's army in Virginia from ruin and nearly
resulted in the capture of the Confederate Chief
of Cavalry. But historians have been strangely
silent about it. I had a part in the play, and I
take more pleasure in telling about it now than I
did when I was an actor in the great drama. In
war there are lights mingled with shadows. In the
retrospect we see a great deal of the comedy
where once all seemed to be tragedy.
After the Seven Days' Battles around Richmond,
that closed on July 1, several weeks of calm
succeeded. McClellan had shifted his base from the
Pamunkey to the James, and both armies rested for
another collision. If McClellan had possessed
the intuition of Grant, he would not have halted
on the bank of the river, but would have crossed
and seized the communications of the Confederate
Capital. General John Pope had been called from
the West to take command of an army in front of
Washington. This army was organized mostly
from fragments which Jackson had overlooked in
the Shenandoah Valley. Pope came East with
some reputation, but he soon lost it.
Pope opened his campaign in northern Virginia
with a bombastic manifesto that, by an invidious
comparison, gave offense to his own side and
amusement to ours. He was, however, unjustly
criticised for declaring that his army should subsist
on the country it occupied. That is a right as
old as war - to live on the enemy. I did the
same thing whenever I could. Pope declared that
in the West he had seen only the backs of his
enemies, and that he would look only to his front
and let his rear take care of itself. But he must
be acquitted of the charge, so often repeated, of
having said that his headquarters would be in the
saddle. I know that it is no use to deny it now -
it is a part of our mythology, and the people of
Virginia believe it as religiously as they do the
legend of Pocahontas. It is said that even so
grave a person as General Lee made humorous
remarks about this proclamation.
I hear constantly of taking strong positions and
holding them, of lines of retreat and bases of supplies.
Let us dismiss such ideas, . . . let us study the probable
lines of retreat of our opponents and leave our
own to take care of themselves. Let us look before
us and not behind.
I saw that the opportunity for which I had longed
had come. He had opened a promising field for
partisan warfare and had invited, or rather dared,
anybody to take advantage of it. The cavalry
at Richmond was doing nothing but picket duty,
and "quiet to quick bosoms is a hell." So I
asked Stuart for a dozen men to make the harvest
where the laborers were few, and do for Pope what
he would not do for himself, take care of his rear
and communications for him. Stuart was, of
course, well-disposed to me. He had spoken well
of me in his report of his ride around McClellan
on the Chickahominy, and General Lee had also
mentioned me in his general order announcing it to
the army.
I really thought that there was a chance to
render effective service. I had served the first
year of the war in a regiment of cavalry in the
region which was now in Pope's department and
had a general knowledge of the country. I was
sure then - I am surer now - that I could make
Pope pay as much attention to his rear as his front,
and that I could compel him to detail most of his
cavalry to guard his long line of communications,
or turn his commissary department and rear over
to me - which would have been perfectly satisfactory
to me. There never was afterwards such
a field for partisan war in Virginia. Breaking
communications is the chief work for a partisan -
it defeats plans and starts confusion by destroying
supplies, thus diminishing the offensive strength
of an army.
Judged in the light that is before us now, it looks
strange that I was refused. Stuart told me that
he was getting his cavalry ready for the active
campaign soon to begin, but that he would give me
a letter to Jackson, who, no doubt, would give me
the men I wanted. I had to beg for the privilege
of striking the enemy at a vulnerable point. If
the detail had been given me, I would have started
directly to cross the Rapidan to flank Pope, and
my partisan war would have begun then.
I accepted the letter to Jackson - the best I
could get - and with a club-footed companion,
an exempt from military service, I started off. I
was so anxious to be at work that I concluded to
go by rail and arrange with Jackson for the cavalry
to go with me. We spent the night with a farmer
near Beaver Dam station on what is now the
Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad. I sent my companion
on to lead my horse to Jackson's headquarters
and went to the depot. I laid down my
pistols and haversack that had the letter to
Jackson - the man leading my horse had scarcely
gotten out of sight - when somebody exclaimed,
"Here they are!" A regiment of Northern
cavalry was not a hundred yards away, coming up
at a trot. I ran, but they caught me and got my
pistols and haversack. This capture apparently
blasted my hopes, especially when I was sent to
the Old Capitol Prison in Washington, but an
exchange of prisoners was agreed upon the next day.
I was captured by a New York regiment - the
Harris Cavalry. It had ridden all night to break
the communications between Lee and Jackson.
The men did not wait for my train, although I
told them it could be taken with impunity. It
was not true, but I suppose I was justified by the
code of war. I was taken to General King's
headquarters at Fredericksburg and very kindly
treated. He let me write a letter to my family,
which he sent through the lines. Some letters
were captured at the depot. General King read
one aloud - everybody laughed. It was from
a Richmond girl to her country cousin. I remember
four lines. I hope they won't shock people
who read them now:
At six o'clock on the evening of July 19th the Harris
Light was set in rapid motion almost directly south.
By means of a forced march through the night, at
gray dawn of morning we descended upon Beaver Dam
depot on the Virginia Central, like so many ravenous
wolves. During an affray we captured a young
Confederate, who gave his name as Captain John S. Mosby.
By his sprightly appearance and conversation he
attracted considerable attention. He is slight but well
formed; has a keen blue eye and a blond complexion,
and displays no small amount of Southern bravado in
his dress and manners. His gray plush hat is
surmounted by a waving plume, which he tosses, as he
speaks, in real Prussian style. He had a letter in his
possession from General Stuart commending him to
the kind regards of General Jackson.
Old Capitol Prison,
My dearest Pauline:
hour, - when the cavalry suddenly appeared and I
had no time to escape. The Colonel and Captain
treated me with the greatest courtesy. General King,
before whom I was carried, ordered my arms to be
restored to me. In my haversack was a letter from
General Stuart introducing me to General Jackson.
You need feel no uneasiness about me. . . . Colonel
Davis, who captured me, offered to lend me Federal
money. I thanked him, but declined.
This was the problem that I had to solve. It was
a pivotal point in the campaign. There were
several officers of high rank among the prisoners,
but I did not communicate my purpose to any
one, for fear my secret work might leak out, with
the result that we should be detained. I was,
however, much surprised that none of them seemed
to regard what was before their eyes as of any
significance.
On the fourth day, several steamers with prisoners
from their places of confinement in the North
anchored near us, and I was told that we were to
start that evening up the James River, to the
point where the commissioners would meet for
the exchange. During the day, I saw the transports
with Burnside's troops weighing anchor and
passing out by the fort. I had become pretty
well acquainted with the captain of the steamer
that brought us down from Washington, and
found out that he was a Confederate in sympathy;
so when he was going ashore for his orders, I asked
him to find out where the transports were going.
When he returned, he whispered to me that
Aquia Creek, on the Potomac, was the point.
That settled it - McClellan's army would not
advance, but would follow the transports northward.
I was feverish with excitement and anxiety to
carry the news to General Lee, but nobody
suspected what I had discovered, nor did I hear any
comment on the movement of Burnside's troops.
I was so restless that I sat nearly all night on the
deck of the steamer, watching for the day star.
Early in the morning we arrived at the landing,
and I was the first to jump ashore. As I was in
a hurry, and afraid of being detained by some
formality in exchanging, I whispered to the
Confederate Commissioner that I had important
information for General Lee, and asked him to let
me go. He made no objection.
It was a hot day in August, and I set out alone
to walk twelve miles to headquarters. Some one
in Washington had given me a patent-leather
haversack and a five-dollar greenback. The latter
I had invested in lemons at Fortress Monroe,
for the blockade kept them out of Virginia.
After trudging several miles I was so exhausted
and footsore that I had to lie down by the roadside;
but I held on to my lemons. A horseman
- one of Hampton's legion - came along, and
I told him how anxious I was to get to General
Lee. He proved a benefactor indeed, for he put
me on his horse, walked to his camp with me, got
another horse, and rode to General Lee's
headquarters with me. I wish I knew his name, for
I have always thought his conduct was one of the
most generous deeds of the war.
When we reached headquarters, I dismounted
and told a staff officer, who was standing on the
porch, that I had important information for
General Lee and wished to see him. As I was
roughly dressed and unkempt, no doubt the
officer thought I was presumptuous to ask the
privilege. In the imperious tone customary with
staff officers, he said that I could not see the
General. I protested that I must, but he would
accept no explanation. So I turned to leave,
but another officer, who had overheard what I
had said, told me to wait. He went inside the
house, but soon came out and told me to go inside.
I did so and found myself in, what was then to me,
the awful presence of the Commander-in-Chief.
We had never met before, but I was soon
relieved of embarrassment; General Lee's kind,
benevolent manner put me at ease. I found
him looking over a map on the table. As quickly
as I could, I told him that Burnside's troops had
been sent to Pope. I then said that he did not
know what confidence he could put in my report
and told him my name and that I was on Stuart's
ride around McClellan. "Oh," he said, "I
remember."
After I had finished my story, he asked me a
few questions. I remember very well that he
inquired on what line I thought the next movement
against Richmond would be made, and that I
considered it a high compliment that he should
ask my opinion on such an important matter.
He then called one of his staff into the room and
told him to have a courier ready to go to General
Jackson. At that time Jackson was about eighty
miles west of Richmond, on the railroad near
Gordonsville, but ever since the affair at Beaver
Dam, Lee had been afraid to trust the telegraph,
and kept a relay line of couriers. As soon as
Jackson got the news about Burnside, he hastened
to strike Pope at Cedar Mountain before reinforcements
could reach him.
Richmond, August 6, '62.
My dearest Pauline:
So long as Burnside and the fleet of transports which
lay in readiness to ship his troops remained at the
mouth of the James, whence they could proceed either
to Harrison's Landing or to Aquia Creek, it was evident
to Lee that the movement of the Federals had not
yet been determined upon. Accordingly he sought
with particular care for every item of intelligence
calculated to enlighten him as to the design of his
adversaries.
Finally, one evening, on the 4th or 5th of August,
a small steamer bearing a flag of truce was seen coming
up the James, passing the Confederate outposts and
approaching Aiken's Landing, a place designated for
the exchange of prisoners. In the midst of of the
soldiers, whose gray coats were worn out by lone
confinement, and the sick and wounded, to whom the
thought of freedom restored both strength and health,
an officer was making himself conspicuous by his
extreme anxiety to land. His face was well known to
every Virginian, and his name to all his companions
in arms; it was the celebrated partisan, Colonel John
Mosby.
His eagerness, which everybody attributed to his
ardent temperament, was very natural, for he had
news of the greatest importance to communicate to
Lee. A few hours later he was at the headquarters of
his chief, to whom he made known the fact that at the
very moment when he was leaving Hampton Roads,
that same morning, the whole of Burnside's corps was
being embarked, and that its destination, as he knew
positively, was Aquia Creek.
Lee lost no time in availing himself of this information,
which chance had opportunely thrown into his hands.
I went to see Stuart, who was still in Hanover,
and then went home to get my horse. I reached
the army again on August 17, just in time to meet
Stuart who had come by rail from Richmond,
leaving Fitz Lee to bring up the cavalry. By
this time it was plain that McClellan was about
to leave the peninsula, so that General Lee was
concentrating on the Rapidan. Stuart had just
had a conference with General Lee and had
received his final instructions. He did not say
what they were, but the coming event cast its
shadow before. Stuart was to meet Fitz Lee at
Verdiersville, and I went with him. I had no
arms - I had lost my pistols when I was captured
at Beaver Dam - but trusted to luck to
get another pair.
On the way to meet Fitz Lee, we passed
Longstreet's camp. The soldiers knew instinctively
that a movement was on foot; they were cooking
their rations for a march and singing "Annie
Laurie." We reached the appointed rendezvous
that night but found a deserted village. There
were no signs of the cavalry, and Stuart was
greatly disappointed and worried, for the operation,
which had been planned for the next morning,
depended on the cavalry. I did not then
suspect how much depended on meeting the
cavalry and how much was lost by its absence. It
was the crucial point of the campaign.
A staff officer, Major Fitzhugh, went in search
of Fitz Lee, and Stuart and I tied our horses and
lay down to sleep on the porch of a house by the
road. Before sunrise I was awakened by a
young man, Gibson, who had just come with me,
unarmed, from prison. He said that he heard
the tramp of cavalry down the plank road; that
it was probably Fitz Lee, but it might be Yankee
cavalry. Although we were near the Rapidan,
we thought we were inside of Longstreet's picket
line, but I did not want to be caught napping
again. So I awoke Stuart and told him what
we had heard and that Gibson and I would ride
down the road to see what was there. We soon
saw a body of cavalry that had stopped at a
house a few hundred yards away. A heavy fog
made it impossible to distinguish friends from foes.
But we were soon relieved of doubt - two cavalrymen
saw us and rode forward. When they got in
pistol range, they opened fire - that settled it.
We knew they were not our friends. As Gibson
and I had no arms, there was nothing for us to
do but wheel and run - which we did - and used
our spurs freely. The firing gave the alarm and
saved Stuart. He mounted his horse, bareheaded,
leaped a fence in the back yard, and got
away. But he left his hat!
Before Gibson and I got to the house where we
had slept, a Prussian on Stuart's staff dashed
through the front gate and went down the road
ahead of us as fast as his horse could carry him.
We never overtook him. After the war he published
a lot of fables in which he described an
encounter he had with the Yankees that morning
as more wonderful than the feat of St. George and
the Dragon. Our ambition was to escape. We
ran as fast as we could, but the Prussian ran
faster. That was all the distinction he won.
Pope had advanced to the line of the Rapidan,
with his army stretched across the Orange and
Alexandria Railway, which was his line of supply.
His forces were massed near the river. Lee, with
Jackson and Longstreet, was in Orange County
a few miles in his front. Our cavalry picketed
the south bank of the river. As late as the seventeenth
Pope did not know - and this was the
evening before he retreated in such a hurry -
that Lee had arrived with Longstreet. He
thought Jackson was at Gordonsville, twenty
miles south. Pope spoke of crossing the river
and making a demonstration towards Richmond;
he told Halleck "our position is strong and it will
be very difficult to drive us from it." A worse
position for an army could not have been selected
for Pope by an enemy. He urged Halleck to let
him cross the river and take the offensive, but the
latter would not consent.
General Lee never again had such an opportunity
to destroy an army. It would have been easy,
on that day, to pass around under cover of
Clarke's Mountain - that is on the south bank
of the Rapidan - cross at the fords below, and
strike Pope both in flank and rear at the same
time. It was particularly so, as Pope had said
he would look only to his front. The fact is,
the railroad turns east at such an angle in
Culpeper that, after crossing the river below Pope,
Lee's army would have been nearer the Rappahannock
bridge than Pope's army was. His
railroad communications with Washington would
have been seized, and reinforcements from
McClellan cut off. According to Pope's dispatches
of that day to Halleck, there was no
sign of a movement to cross the Rapidan. He was
anxious to attack Jackson. By an accident
Pope was rudely awakened from his dream of security.
Hence, when he saw him (Pope) quickly occupying
the line of the Rapidan, Lee at once saw his opportunity.
He ordered Longstreet and Jackson to cross
the river at Raccoon and Somerville fords and to move
on Culpeper Court House, while the cavalry of Stuart,
crossing further to the east at Morton's Ford, was to
make Rappahannock Station, destroying the bridge
there and then turning to the left, form the right of
Longstreet's corps. Pope would have been attacked
in the rear and flank and his communications severed
in the bargain. Doubtless, he would have made a
strenuous fight, but he could hardly have escaped
defeat, and defeat under such circumstances might
well have been ruin. From this disaster fortune saved
Pope through the capture of Stuart's staff officer.
Daybreak on the eighteenth was the time fixed for
crossing the river. But Fitz Lee, as appears from
Stuart's report, after leaving Hanover, instead of
marching directly to the vicinity of Raccoon
Ford, as he was ordered, changed his course and
turned back to follow his wagons that had been
sent by Louisa Court House for provisions. By
this detour he was a day late in reaching his
destination. The delay was fatal to General
Lee's plan and saved Pope. General Lee would
not make the movement without his cavalry, but
Jackson wanted to go on without it. Major
Fitzhugh, while looking for Fitz Lee, was captured
on the night of the seventeenth by a body of
cavalry that had been sent over the river on a
scout. It was the same body that came so near
getting us the next morning. They got Lee's
letter to Stuart that disclosed his plan to cross
on the morning of the eighteenth and flank Pope.
The dispatch was sent in hot haste to headquarters
and created a panic.
General Pope, in his report, spoke of the capture
of this letter as the cause of his hasty and
unpremeditated retreat. He said the cavalry
expedition he sent out captured the Adjutant
General of Stuart and was near capturing that
officer himself. Among the papers taken from
him was an autograph letter of General Lee to
General Stuart "which made manifest the disposition
and force of the enemy, and their destination
to overwhelm the army and my command
before it could be reinforced by any portion of the
Army of the Potomac."
But Fitz Lee was not alone responsible for
General Lee's failure to envelop Pope. General
Longstreet said that, as the cavalry had not come
up on the seventeenth, he ordered two regiments
of Toombs's brigade to be sent to guard the Rapidan
fords. Toombs had ridden from his headquarters
to have dinner with a farmer. When the
order came, his next in rank ordered the detail
to be sent. When Toombs learned what had
been done without asking him, he ordered the
regiment back to their camp. So the fords were
unguarded, and Pope's cavalry crossed without
giving any alarm, captured Stuart's staff officer
with General Lee's order, and saved Pope's army.
Longstreet put Toombs under arrest, but Fitz
Lee was not relieved of his command. In the
midst of the battle of Manassas, a few days later,
Toombs rode up to Longstreet and begged to lead
his brigade. Longstreet relented, and Toombs
led his men into battle. So it seemed that General
Pope was saved by a comedy of errors.
General Lee had to wait for his cavalry to come up,
but when they came the opportunity was gone.
If Toombs had not withdrawn the picket from
the Rapidan, the Union cavalry could not have
crossed; if Fitz Lee had obeyed orders, even if
the cavalry had crossed, they would have been
caught. By this combination of errors, Pope got
warning and lost no time in getting away.
I rode with Stuart to the signal station on
Clarke's Mountain where we could see Pope's
army retreating and his trains scudding back to
the Rappahannock.
General George Gordon, who was with Pope,
said: "Without delay the retreat began. By
rail and along the roadways, in cars and in baggage
wagons, from Mitchell's Station and Culpeper
(Court House) vast stores of subsistence, forage,
and ammunition streamed out for the left bank
of the Rappahannock. . . . The Confederates
were disappointed; many of them scolded
bitterly. Rarely had a better opportunity offered
for the destruction of an army."
Dabney, Jackson's staff officer and biographer,
in an account of the campaign written when it
was fresh in memory, said that the plan of the
commander-in-chief was for the movement to
begin at dawn on the eighteenth, but was defeated
by dilatory subordinates, and that he overruled the
eagerness of Jackson and postponed it until the
twentieth. "It was then," he wrote, "most
fortunate that Jackson was not in command."
A few days afterwards Stuart went on a raid
around Pope. As he galloped by me, he said, "I
am going after my hat." Sure enough, he captured
Pope's headquarters wagons, with the hat
and plume and full-dress uniform, besides his
money chest. Stuart was now at least even with Pope.
Dranesville, September 5, '62.
My dearest Pauline:
I only once saw Stonewall Jackson in battle. At
Antietam I rode with Stuart by some batteries where
Jackson was directing their fire on the flank of a column
that was advancing against him, and I stopped a
minute to look at the great soldier who was then
transfigured with the joy of battle. In a quiet way he was
giving orders. McClellan had sent three corps in
succession against him - Hooker's, Mansfield's, and
Sumner's - and each in turn was repulsed. While I
was near him, the last onset was made, but Jackson
held the same ground at sunset that he held in the morning.
I rode on and overtook Stuart, but the killed and
wounded were strewn on the ground "like leaves of
the forest when autumn hath blown", and I had to
be careful not to ride over them. Whole ranks seemed
to have been struck down by a volley. Although
hundreds were lying all around me, my attention was
in some way attracted to a wounded officer who was
lying in an uncomfortable position and seemed to be
suffering great agony. I dismounted, fixed him more
comfortably, and rolled up a blanket on which he
rested his head, and then got a canteen of water for
him from the body of a dead soldier lying near him.
As I passed a wounded soldier, I held the canteen
toward him so that he could drink. He said, "No,
take it to my Colonel, he is the best man in the world."
[This was a speech worthy of Sidney, the model of
chivalry.]
Near Culpeper, November 14, '62.
My dearest Pauline:
Tuesday, December 2nd, '62.
My dearest Pauline:
December 9.
My dearest Pauline:
I want you to send me some books to read. Send
Plutarch, Macaulay's "History" and "Essays,"
"Encyclopedia of Anecdotes," Scott's Works, Shakespeare,
Byron, Scott's Poems, Hazlitt's "Life of Napoleon,"
- if you can get me a copy of "My Novel," send it,
also "Memoirs of an Irish Gentleman" (for Fount
Beattie), "Corinne," and "Sketch Book."
To relieve the monotony Stuart resolved to take
his cavalry on a Christmas raid to Dumfries on
Burnside's line of communication with Washington.
A good many wagons with supplies were captured,
and we chased a cavalry regiment through
their own camp and got all their good things.
There is a dispatch in the history of the telegraph
in the war from an operator in Fairfax, which
says, "The 17th Pennsylvania Cavalry just passed
here, furiously charging to the rear."
When he returned, Stuart let me stay behind a
few days with six men to operate on the enemy's
outposts. He was so satisfied with our success
that he let me have fifteen men to return and
begin my partisan life in northern Virginia -
which closed with the war. That was the origin
of my battalion. On January 24, 1863, we
crossed the Rappahannock and immediately
began operations in a country which Joe Johnston
had abandoned a year before. It
1 looked as
though I was leading a forlorn hope, but I was
never discouraged. In general my purpose was
to threaten and harass the enemy on the border
and in this way compel him to withdraw troops
from his front to guard the line of the Potomac and
Washington. This would greatly diminish his
offensive power. General "Joe" Hooker said
before a committee of Congress that we created so
much anxiety that the planks on the bridge across
the Potomac were taken up every night to prevent
us from carrying off the Government.
Recruits came to us from inside the enemy's
lines, and they brought valuable information.
Then, I had picketed for some time in Fairfax the
year before and had acquired considerable local
knowledge. The troops attached to the defence
of Washington, south of the Potomac, were
distributed in winter quarters through Fairfax County
and extended in an arc of a circle from the upper
to the lower Potomac. The headquarters of General
Stoughton, who commanded them, were at
the Court House. In a day or so after I arrived
in Loudoun, we began operations on the outposts
of Fairfax. The weak points were generally
selected for attack. Up to that time the pickets
had passed a quiet life in their camps or dozing
on the picket posts, but now they were kept under
arms and awake all night by a foe who generally
assailed them where he was least expected. At
first they accounted for our attacks on the theory
that the farmers and cripples they saw in the
daytime ploughing their fields and taking care of
their flocks collected in bands at night, raided
their camps, and dispersed at daybreak. But
when they went around at night searching the
homes for these invisible foes, they generally
found the old farmers in bed, and when they
returned to camp, they often found that we had
paid them a visit in their absence. The farmers
could prove an alibi.
An English officer, Colonel Percy Wyndham, a
soldier of fortune who had been with Garibaldi in
Italy, commanded the cavalry brigade and had
charge of the outposts. He was familiar with the
old rules of the schools, but he soon learned that
they were out of date, and his experience in war
had not taught him how to counteract the forays
and surprises that kept his men in the saddle all
the time. The loss of sleep is irritating to anybody
and, in his vexation at being struck by and striking
at an invisible foe, he sent me a message calling
me a horse thief. I did not deny it, but retorted
that all the horses I had stolen had riders, and
that the riders had sabres, carbines, and pistols.
There was a new regiment in his brigade that was
armed only with sabres and obsolete carbines.
When we attacked them with revolvers, they were
really defenseless. So I sent him word through
a citizen that the men of that regiment were not
worth capturing, and he must give them six-shooters.
We used neither carbines nor sabres,
but all the men carried a pair of Colt pistols. We
did not pay for them but the U. S. Government did.
I have been in this
neighborhood over a
week. Have had a gay time with the Yankees.
Have captured twenty-eight Yankee cavalry, twenty-nine
horses. . . . I have 15 men with me . . . Fount
Beattie was captured by the Yankees, - his horse
fell with him. There were over two hundred Yankees.
The Yankees set what they thought was a sure trap
to catch me a few nights ago. I went into it and
brought the whole of them off, - killed and captured
twelve.
road in Fairfax, and I was determined to
capture it. Of course, the fine horses were a
great attraction. Several citizens had joined my
command and acted as guides. Near the post
lived a man named Ben Hatton, who traded in the
camps and was pretty familiar with them. So,
around midnight, we stopped at his house about a
mile from the picket post, and he told us that he
had been there that evening - I suppose to get
coffee and sugar. Ben was impressed as a guide
to conduct us to the rear of the enemy. When we
reached that point, I determined to dismount, leave
our horses, and attack on foot. Ben had fully
discharged his duty and, as he was a non-combatant,
I did not want to expose him to unnecessary
danger. The blazing fire by which the Yankees
were sleeping and dreaming was sufficient for us.
So the horses were tied to the trees, and two of my
men - Jimmie, an Irishman, and another we
called "Coonskin", from the cap he wore -
stayed with Ben as a guard over the horses.
Walking on the soft snow, we made no noise and
were soon upon the picket post. The surprise
was complete, and they had no time to prepare
for resistance. We were soon ready to start back
with our prisoners and their horses, when a fire
opened in our rear, where we had left the guard
and horses. The best scheme seemed to be to
mount the Yankee horses, dash back, and
recapture our own. Some of the men were left to
bring the prisoners on foot. A considerable fusillade
had been going on where the guard had been
left, but it ceased suddenly when we got near the
place. To our surprise we found the horses all
standing hitched to the trees, and Ben Hatton
lying in a snowbank, shot through the thigh.
But neither "Coonskin" nor Jimmie was there.
Ben told us that the Yankees had come up and
attacked them; that was all he knew, except that
they had shot him. He did not know whether
the Yankees had carried off Jimmie and "Coonskin",
or whether they had carried off the Yankees,
nor could he explain why the horses were there.
That was a mystery nobody could solve. We
mounted; Ben was lifted on a horse behind one of
the men, and we started off with all the horses and
prisoners. By that time the Yankees from the
camp had been attracted by the firing. They
came up and opened fire at us at long range, but
let us leave without venturing to come near.
Ben was bleeding profusely, but it was only a
flesh wound. We left him at home, curled up in
bed, with his wife to nurse him. He was too
near the enemy's lines for me to give him surgical
assistance, and he was afraid to ask any from the
camps. The wound would have betrayed him
to the Yankees had they known about it, and
Ben would have been hung as a spy! He was
certainly innocent, for he had no desire to serve
any one but himself. His wound healed, but the
only reward he got was the glory of shedding his
blood for his country.
As soon as it was daylight, a strong body of
cavalry was sent up the turnpike to catch us -
they might as well have been chasing a herd of
antelope. We had several hours' start of them,
and they returned to camp in the evening, leading
a lot of broken-down horses. The pursuit had
done them more harm than our attack.
We brought off "Coonskin's" and Jimmie's
horses, but we couldn't invent a theory to solve
the mystery. Two days afterwards, "Coonskin"
and Jimmie reappeared. They had trudged
twenty-five miles through the snow, arriving
within a few hours of each other, but from
opposite directions, and each thought he was the only
survivor. Neither knew that Ben Hatton had
been shot, and each said that he had fought until
they saw a body of Yankees riding down upon
them. Then they ran off and left the horses in
the belief that we were all prisoners.
By a comparison of their statements, I found
out that the facts were about as follows. To
keep themselves warm, the three had walked
around among the trees and got separated.
"Coonskin" saw Ben and Jimmie moving in the
shadows and took them for Yankees. He opened
on them and drew blood at the first fire. Ben
yelled and fell. Jimmie took it for granted that
"Coonskin" was a Yankee and returned his fire.
So they were firing at each other and dodging
among the trees when they saw us coming up at
a gallop. As we had left them on foot, they could
not understand how we could come back on
horseback. So after wounding Ben Hatton and
shooting at each other, they had run away from us.
A few days after this adventure, Fate compelled
me to act a part in a comedy which appeared
to be heroic, but for which I was really entitled
to as little credit as Ben Hatton was for getting
shot. From our rendezvous along the base of the
Blue Ridge we continued to make night attacks
on the outposts near Washington. So it was
determined in Washington to put a stop to what
were called our depredations, and an expedition
was sent against us into Loudoun. Middleburg,
a village, was supposed to be our headquarters, and
it was thought that by surrounding it at night the
marauders could be caught. The complaints
against us did not recognize the fact that there
are two parties of equal rights in a war. The
error men make is in judging conduct in war by
the standards of peace. I confess my theory of
war was severely practical - one not acquired by
reading the Waverley novels - but we observed
the ethics of the code of war. Strategy is only
another name for deception and can be practised
by any commander. The enemy complained
that we did not fight fair; the same complaint was
made by the Austrians against Napoleon.
A Major Gilmer was sent with 200 men in expectation
of extirpating my gang - as they called us.
He might have done more if he had taken less
whiskey along. But the weather was cold! Be-
fore daybreak he had invested the town and made
his headquarters in the hotel where he had learned
that I slept. I had never been in the village
except to pass through. The orders were to
arrest every man that could be found, and when
his searching parties reported to him, they had a
lot of old men whom they had pulled out of bed.
Gilmer pretended to think these were the parties
that had captured his pickets and patrols and
stampeded his camps. If so, when he saw the
old cripples on crutches, he ought to have been
ashamed. He made free use of his bottle and
ordered a soldier to drill the old men and make
them mark time just to keep warm. As he had
made a night march of twenty-five miles, he concluded
to carry the prisoners to his camp as
prizes of war. So each graybeard had to ride
double with a trooper. There were also a number
of colored women whom he invited, or who asked,
to go with him. They had children, but the major
was a good-natured man. So each woman was
mounted behind a trooper - and the trooper
took her baby in his arms. With such encumbrances,
sabres and pistols would be of little use,
if an attack was made. When they started, the
column looked more like a procession of Canterbury
Pilgrims than cavalry.
News came to me that the enemy were at Middleburg,
so, with seventeen men, I started that
way, hoping to catch some stragglers. But when
we got to the village, we heard that they had gone,
and we entered at a gallop. Women and children
came out to greet us - the men had all been carried
off as prisoners. The tears and lamentations of the
scene aroused all our sentiments of chivalry, and
we went in pursuit. With five or six men I rode
in advance at a gallop and directed the others
to follow more slowly. I had expected that
Major Gilmer might halt at Aldie, a village about
five miles ahead, but when we got there a citizen
told us that he passed on through. Just as we
were ascending to the top of a hill on the outskirts
of the village, two cavalrymen suddenly
met us. We captured them and sent them to the
rear, supposing they were videttes of Gilmer's
command. Orders were sent to the men behind
to hurry up. Just then I saw two cavalrymen
in blue on the pike. No others were visible, so
with my squad I started at a gallop to capture
them. But when we got halfway down the hill
we discovered a considerable body - it turned
out to be a squadron - of cavalry that had
dismounted. Their horses were hitched to a fence,
and they were feeding at a mill. I tried to stop,
but my horse was high-mettled and ran at full
speed, entirely beyond my control. But the cavalry
at the mill were taken absolutely by surprise
by the irruption; their videttes had not fired, and
they were as much shocked as if we had dropped
from the sky. They never waited to see how many
of us there were. A panic seized them. Without
stopping to bridle their horses or to fight on foot,
they scattered in all directions. Some hid in the
mill; others ran to Bull Run Mountain near by.
Just as we got to the mill, I saw another body
of cavalry ahead of me on the pike, gazing in
bewildered astonishment at the sight. To save
myself, I jumped off my horse and my men
stopped, but fortunately the mounted party in
front of me saw those I had left behind coming to
my relief, so they wheeled and started full speed
down the pike. We then went back to the mill
and went to work. Many had hidden like rats,
and as the mill was running, they came near being
ground up. The first man that was pulled out
was covered with flour; we thought he was the
miller. I still believed that the force was Major
Gilmer's rearguard. All the prisoners were sent
back, and with one man I rode down the pike to
look for my horse. But I never got him - he
chased the Yankees twenty-five miles to their camp.
I have said that in this affair I got the reputation
of a hero; really I never claimed it, but gave my
horse all the credit for the stampede. Now comes
the funniest part of the story. Major Gilmer had
left camp about midnight. The next morning a
squadron of the First Vermont Cavalry, which
was in camp a few miles away from him, was sent
up the pike on Gilmer's track. Major Gilmer
did not know they were coming. When he got a
mile below Aldie, he saw in front a body of cavalry
coming to meet him. He thought they were my
men who had cut him off from his camp. He
happened to be at the point where the historic
Haddock road, along which young George Washington
marched to the Monongahela, crossed the
turnpike. As Major Gilmer was in search of us,
it is hard to see why he was seized with a panic
when he thought he saw us. He made no effort
to find out whether the force in front was friend
or foe, but wheeled and turned off at full speed from
the pike. He seemed to think the chances were
all against him. There had been a snow and a
thaw, and his horses sank to their knees in mud
at every jump. But the panic grew, the farther he
went, and he soon saw that he had to leave some
of his horses sticking in the road. He concluded
now that he would do like the mariner in a storm -
jettison his cargo. So the old men were dropped
first; next the negro women, and the troopers were
told to leave the babies in the arms of their
mothers. The Braddock road had seen one such
wreck and retreat a hundred years before.
I had not gone far before I met the old men coming
back, and they told me of their ludicrous
adventure and thanked me for their rescue. They
did not know that the Vermont cavalry was
entitled to all the glory for getting up the stampede,
and that they owed me nothing. In the hurry
to find my horse, I had asked the prisoners no
questions and thought that we had caught a
rear-guard. Among the prisoners were two captains.
One was exchanged in time to be at Gettysburg,
where he was killed. Major Gilmer was tried
for cowardice and drunkenness and was dismissed
from the army. Colonel Johnstone, who put him
under arrest when he got back, said in his report,
"The horses returned exhausted from being run
at full speed for miles." They were running from
the Vermont cavalry.
Among the accessions to my command was a
young man named John Underwood, whom I
found in the Fairfax forests. I was largely
indebted to his skill and intelligence for whatever
success I had in the beginning of my partisan life.
He was killed a few months afterward, and I never
found his like again, for he was equally at home
threading his way through the pines or leading a
charge. Why he had stayed at home and let me
discover him is a mystery to me. Soon after the
affair in which Ben Hatton became an involuntary
hero, Underwood reported another outpost in
Fairfax which was in an exposed position. I could
hardly believe it; the Yankees seemed to have
learned nothing by experience. It looked much as
though they had been put there just to be caught,
or as a snare to catch me, so I resolved to give
them another lesson in the art of war.
We had a suspicion that it was a trap set for us
and that there was danger, but war is not an
exact science, and it is necessary to take some
chances. I determined to try my luck in the
daytime - they would not be expecting us, as
all our attacks had been at night. Underwood
led us by paths through the woods to their rear
until we arrived at a road leading from their camp
to the picket. A vidette was there, but he was
caught before he could fire and give the alarm.
It was then plain that the surprise we had planned
would be complete. A few hundred yards away
the boys in blue were lounging around an old sawmill,
with their horses tied to a fence. It was past
twelve o'clock, there was bright sunlight, and there
was snow on the ground. They were Vermont
cavalry, and they had no suspicion that an enemy
was near. It was just the hour for their relief
to come, and as we came from the direction of their
camp, they thought, when they saw us, that we
were friends.
When we got within a hundred yards of them,
an order to charge was given. They were panicstricken
- they had no time to untie their horses
and mount - and took refuge in the loft of the mill.
I was afraid that if they had time to recover from
their shock, they would try to hold the mill against
us with their carbines until reinforcements came.
There was a pile of dry timber and shavings on the
floor, and the men were ordered, in a loud voice,
to set the mill on fire. When we reached the head
of the stairs, the Yankees surrendered. They
were defenceless against the fire, and it was not
their ambition to be cremated alive. Not a shot
was fired. After all were mounted, we saw four
finely-equipped horses tied in front of a near-by
house. My men at once rushed to find the riders.
They found a table spread with lunch. One of
the men ran up-stairs where it was pitch dark;
he called but got no answer. As a pistol shot
could do no harm, he fired into the darkness.
The flash of the pistol in his face caused one of
the Yankees to move, and he descended through
the ceiling. He had stepped on the lathing and
caved it in. After he was brushed off, we saw that
he was a major. The three other officers who
were with him came out of their holes and
surrendered. My men appropriated the lunch by
right of war.
Just as the Yankee relief appeared, John Underwood
was sent off with the prisoners. We kept
a rear guard behind, but no attack was made on
it, although one was threatened. Major Taggart,
in his report of the affair, censured the officer in
command, as he had a larger force than ours and
made no attempt either to capture us or to recapture
the prisoners. Major Wells, the major we
captured, was exchanged in time to be at Gettysburg
where he was promoted to be a brigadier-general.
There was more than one ludicrous affair that
day. A man named Janney lived at the place
and was permitted to conduct a store since he
was inside the picket lines. He had just brought
a barrel of molasses from Washington to retail to
his neighbors, and he was in the act of filling a
jug for a customer when he heard the yell of my
men as they rushed at the picket post. As the
place was occupied by the Unionists, he could not
have been more surprised if a comet had struck it.
Janney did not aspire to be a hero, so he ran away
as fast as his heels could carry him, and, if possible,
the molasses ran even faster. When he
ventured to return to the store, he found the
molasses spread all over the floor, and not a drop
in the barrel.
After we were a safe distance away, the privates
were paroled and allowed to go home, and the
officers gave their paroles to report to Fitz Lee
in Culpeper. Jake, a Hungarian, was sent with
them as an escort. Now Jake had served under
Kossuth and did not put much trust in paroles.
They spent the night with a farmer and, when the
officers went to bed, Jake volunteered to take
their boots to the kitchen to be shined. As long
as he had their boots, Jake had no fear of their
going off in the snow. When he got back, Jake
told me, with a chuckle, of the trick he had played
on the Yankees.
War is not always grim-visaged, and incidents
occur which provoke laughter in the midst of
danger. In the Shenandoah Valley, a Yankee
cavalry regiment went into camp one evening.
One of the men rode off to a house to get something
to eat and called a colored woman to the
door. He wanted to feel safe, so he asked if anybody
was there. "Nobody but Mosby," she replied.
"Is Mosby here?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He dashed off to the camp and reported that
Mosby was in a house near by. Orders were given
to saddle and mount quickly, and they marched
to the house and surrounded it. The Colonel
entered and asked the woman if Mosby was there.
"Yes," she answered.
"Where is he?" demanded the Colonel.
"There he is," she said, pointing to a negro baby
in the cradle.
One night I was with one man near the enemy's
camps in Fairfax. We were passing a house,
when I heard a dog bark and somebody call,
"Come here, Mosby." So I turned, rode up
to the house, and asked the man if he had called
me.
"No," he said, "I was calling Mosby. I wanted
him to stop barking."
So I have had the distinction of having had
negro babies and dogs named after me.
Ames stood all tests, and until he was killed I
never had a more faithful follower.
Ames had come out from his camp on foot and
proposed to me that he would go back into his
camp and return on horseback, if I would accept
him. A recruit, Walter Frankland, had just
come to me, but he was not mounted. With my
approval he agreed to go with Ames to get a horse.
They trudged on foot through the snow - twenty-five
miles - entered the camp of the Fifth New
York Cavalry at night, unchallenged, and rode
out on fine horses.
At the same time, with a number of men, I
started on a raid in another direction and had
rather a ludicrous adventure. We met an old
country doctor, Doctor Drake, in a desolate condition,
walking home through mud and snow.
He told us he had been going the rounds, visiting
his patients, when he had met a body of cavalry
that was not far ahead of us. They had robbed
him of his horse, saddlebags, and medicine. As
the blockade had made medicine scarce, this
was a severe loss to the community. We spurred
on to overtake the raiders and intercepted a party
that had stopped at a house. They exceeded us
in numbers, but they were more intent on saving
themselves and their plunder than on fighting.
They scampered away, with us close behind
them. Soon they got to Horsepen Run, which was
booming from the melting snows, and the foremost
man plunged into the stream. He got a
good ducking and was glad to get back a prisoner.
His companions did not try to swim after him but
preferred to surrender. They were loaded with
silver spoons and valuables they had taken, but
the chief prize was old Doctor Drake's saddlebags,
which they had not opened. The silver
was returned to the owners, and the prisoners were
sent to Richmond.
When we got back to Middleburg, we found
Ames and Frankland with their fine horses. I
now determined to give Ames one more trial and
so took him with me on a raid to Fairfax. But
he went as a combatant without arms. I had
found out that there was a picket post at a certain
crossroads and went to attack it in a rain on
a dark night, when there was snow on the ground.
As only a raccoon could be supposed to travel on
such a night, I knew the pickets would feel safe
and would be sound asleep, so that a single shot
would create a panic. We stopped to inquire
of a farmer the location of the post. He had
been there during the day and said that there
were 100 men who slept in a schoolhouse. He
asked me how many men I had, and I replied,
"Seventeen, but they will think there are a hundred."
They could not count in the dark. We
made no attempt to flank the picket to prevent
his giving the alarm, but we went straight down
the road. One of the men, Joe Nelson, was sent
ahead to catch the vidette. When the vidette
saw Joe, he fired at him and started at full speed
to the reserve; but we were on his heels and got
there almost as soon as he did. The yells of my
men resounded through the pines, and the Yankees
all fled and left their horses hitched to the trees.
As it was very dark, we could not catch many of
the men, but we got all their horses. My attention
was attracted to Ames, who struck a man
with a carbine he got from him - I don't remember
why. We were soon back on the pike and trotting
towards the Blue Ridge with the prisoners and
horses. When it was daylight, Wyndham mounted
his squadrons and started full speed after us.
After going twenty miles, he returned to camp with
half of his men leading broken-down horses.
Wyndham was soon afterwards relieved, but
not before we had raided his headquarters and
carried off his staff, his horses, and his uniform.
I now determined to execute my scheme to
capture both General Stoughton and Wyndham
at their headquarters. Ames, about whose fidelity
there was no longer any question, knew where
their headquarters were, and the place was
familiar to me as I had been in camp there. I also
knew, both from Ames and the prisoners, where
the gaps in the lines were at night. The safety
of the enterprise lay in its novelty; nothing of
the kind had been done before.
On the evening of March 8, 1863, in obedience
to orders, twenty-nine men met me at Dover,
in Loudoun County. None knew my objective
point, but I told Ames after we started. I
remember that I got dinner that day with Colonel
Chancellor, who lived near Dover. Just as I
was about to mount my horse, as I was leaving, I
said to him, "I shall mount the stars to-night or
sink lower than plummet ever sounded." I did
not rise as high as the stars, but I did not sink.
I then had no reputation to lose, even if I failed,
and I remembered the motto, "Adventures to
the adventurous."
The weather conditions favored my success.
There was a melting snow on the ground, a mist,
and, about dark, a drizzling rain. Our starting
point was about twenty-five miles from Fairfax
Court House. It was pitch dark when we got
near the cavalry pickets at Chantilly - five or
six miles from the Court House. At Centreville,
three miles away on the Warrenton pike and
seven miles from the Court House, were several
thousand troops. Our problem was to pass
between them and Wyndham's cavalry without
giving the alarm. Ames knew where there was
a break in the picket lines between Chantilly and
Centreville, and he led us through this without
a vidette seeing us. After passing the outpost
the chief point in the game was won. I think no
man with me, except Ames, realized that we were
inside the enemy's lines. But the enemy felt
secure and was as ignorant as my men. The
plan had been to reach the Court House by midnight
so as to get out of the lines before daybreak,
but the column got broken in the dark and the
two parts travelled around in a circle for an hour
looking for each other. After we closed up, we
started off and struck the pike between Centreville
and the Court House. But we turned off
into the woods when we got within two or three
miles of the village, as Wyndham's cavalry camps
were on the pike. We entered the village from
the direction of the railroad station. There were
a few sentinels about the town, but it was so
dark that they could not distinguish us from
their own people. Squads were detailed to go
around to the officers' quarters and to the stables
for the horses. The court-house yard was the
rendezvous where all were to report. As our great
desire was to capture Wyndham, Ames was sent
with a party to the house in which he knew Wyndham
had his quarters. But fortune was in Wyndham's
favor that time, for that evening he had
gone to Washington by train. But Ames got his
two staff officers, his horses, and his uniform.
One of the officers, Captain Barker, had been
Ames's captain. Ames brought him to me and
seemed to take great pride in introducing him
to me as his former captain.
When the squads were starting around to gather
prisoners and horses, Joe Nelson brought me a
soldier who said he was a guard at General Stoughton's
headquarters. Joe had also pulled the
telegraph operator out of his tent; the wires had
been cut. With five or six men I rode to the
house, now the Episcopal rectory, where the
commanding general was. We dismounted and
knocked loudly at the door. Soon a window above
was opened, and some one asked who was there.
I answered, "Fifth New York Cavalry with a
dispatch for General Stoughton." The door was
opened and a staff officer, Lieutenant Prentiss,
was before me. I took hold of his nightshirt,
whispered my name in his ear, and told him to
take me to General Stoughton's room. Resistance
was useless, and he obeyed. A light was quickly
struck, and on the bed we saw the general sleeping
as soundly as the Turk when Marco Bozzaris
waked him up. There was no time for ceremony,
so I drew up the bedclothes, pulled up the general's
shirt, and gave him a spank on his bare
back, and told him to get up. As his staff officer
was standing by me, Stoughton did not realize
the situation and thought that somebody was
taking a rude familiarity with him. He asked
in an indignant tone what all this meant. I told
him that he was a prisoner, and that he must
get up quickly and dress.
I then asked him if he had ever heard of
"Mosby", and he said he had.
"I am Mosby," I said. "Stuart's cavalry has
possession of the Court House; be quick and dress."
He then asked whether Fitz Lee was there. I
said he was, and he asked me to take him to Fitz
Lee - they had been together at West Point.
Two days afterwards I did deliver him to Fitz
Lee at Culpeper Court House. My motive in
trying to deceive Stoughton was to deprive him
of all hope of escape and to induce him to dress
quickly. We were in a critical situation, surrounded
by the camps of several thousand troops
with several hundred in the town. If there had
been any concert between them, they could
easily have driven us out; but not a shot was
fired although we stayed there over an hour. As
soon as it was known that we were there, each
man hid and took care of himself. Stoughton had
the reputation of being a brave soldier, but a fop.
He dressed before a looking-glass as carefully as
Sardanapalus did when he went into battle. He
forgot his watch and left it on the bureau, but one
of my men, Frank Williams, took it and gave it
to him. Two men had been left to guard our
horses when we went into the house. There
were several tents for couriers in the yard, and
Stoughton's horses and couriers were ready to
go with us, when we came out with the general
and his staff.
When we reached the rendezvous at the courtyard,
I found all the squads waiting for us with
their prisoners and horses. There were three
times as many prisoners as my men, and each
was mounted and leading a horse. To deceive
the enemy and baffle pursuit, the cavalcade
started off in one direction and, soon after it got
out of town, turned in another. We flanked the
cavalry camps, and were soon on the pike between
them and Centreville. As there were several
thousand troops in that town, it was not thought
possible that we would go that way to get out of
the lines, so the cavalry, when it started in pursuit,
went in an opposite direction. Lieutenant
Prentiss and a good many prisoners who started
with us escaped in the dark, and we lost a great
many of the horses.
A ludicrous incident occurred when we were
leaving Fairfax. A window was raised, and a
voice inquired, in an authoritative tone, what
that cavalry was doing in the street. He was
answered by a loud laugh from my men, which
was notice to him that we were not his friends.
I ordered several men to dismount and capture
him. They burst through the front door, but the
man's wife met them in the hall and held her
ground like a lioness to give her husband time to
escape. He was Colonel Johnstone, who was
in command of the cavalry brigade during Wyndham's
absence. He got out through the back door
in his night clothes and barefooted, and hid in
the garden. He spent some time there, as he did
not know when we left, and his wife could not
find him.
Our safety depended on our getting out of the
Union lines before daybreak. We struck the
pike about four miles from Centreville; the danger
I then apprehended was pursuit by the cavalry,
which was in camp behind us. When we
got near the pike, I halted the column to close
up. Some of my men were riding in the rear, and
some on the flanks to prevent the prisoners from
escaping. I left a sergeant, Hunter, in command
and rode forward to reconnoitre. As no enemy
was in front, I called to Hunter to come on and
directed him to go forward at a trot and to hold
Stoughton's bridle reins under all circumstances.
Stoughton no doubt appreciated my interest in
him.
With Joe Nelson I remained some distance
behind. We stopped frequently to listen for the
hoofbeats of cavalry in pursuit, but no sounds
could be heard save the hooting of owls. My
heart beat higher with hope every minute; it
was the crisis of my fortunes.
Soon the camp fires on the heights around
Centreville were in sight; my plan was to flank
the position and pass between that place and the
camps at Chantilly. But we soon saw that
Hunter had halted, and I galloped forward to
find out the cause. I saw a fire on the side of
the road about a hundred yards ahead of us -
evidently a picket post. So I rode forward to
reconnoitre, but nobody was by the fire, and
the picket was gone. We were now half a mile
from Centreville, and the dawn was just breaking.
It had been the practice to place a picket on our
road every evening and withdraw it early in the
morning. The officer in charge concluded that,
as it was near daylight, there was no danger in
the air, and he had returned to camp and left the
fire burning. That was the very thing I wanted
him to do. I called Hunter to come on, and
we passed the picket fire and then turned off to
go around the forts at Centreville. I rode some
distance ahead of the column. The camps were
quiet; there was no sign of alarm; the telegraph
wires had been cut, and no news had come about
our exploit at the Court House. We could see the
cannon bristling through the redoubts and hear the
sentinel on the parapet call to us to halt. But no
attention was paid to him, and he did not fire to
give the alarm. No doubt he thought that we were
a body of their own cavalry going out on a scout.
But soon there was a shot behind me and, turning
around, I saw Captain Barker dashing towards
a redoubt and Jake, the Hungarian, close
behind him and about to give him another shot,
when Barker's horse tumbled and fell on him in
a ditch. We soon got them out and moved on.
All this happened in sight of the sentinels and in
gunshot of their camps.
After we had passed the forts and reached Cub
Run, a new danger was before us. The stream
was swift and booming from the melting snow,
and our choice was to swim, or to turn back.
In full view behind us were the white tents of the
enemy and the forts, and we were within cannon
range. Without halting a moment, I plunged
into the stream, and my horse swam to the other
bank. Stoughton followed and was next to me.
As he came up the bank, shivering from his cold
morning bath, he said, "Captain, this is the first
rough treatment I have to complain of."
Fortunately not a man or a horse was lost.
When all were over, I knew there was no danger
behind us, and that we were as safe as Tam O'Shanter
thought he would be if he crossed the bridge of
Doon ahead of the witches. I now left Hunter
in charge of the column, and with one of my men,
George Slater, galloped on to see what was ahead
of us. I thought a force might have been sent to
intercept us on the pike we had left that runs
through Centreville. I did not know that Colonel
Johnstone, with his cavalry, had gone in the
opposite direction.
We crossed Bull Run at Sudley Ford and were
soon on the historic battlefield. From the heights
of Groveton we could see that the road was clear
to Centreville, and that there was no pursuit.
Hunter soon appeared in sight. The sun had
just risen, and in the rapture of the moment I
said to Slater, "George, that is the sun of Austerlitz!"
I knew that I had drawn a prize in the
lottery of life, and my emotion was natural and
should be pardoned.
I could not but feel deep pity for Stoughton
when he looked back at Centreville and saw that
there was no chance of his rescue. Without any
fault of his own, Stoughton's career as a soldier
was blasted.
There is an anecdote told of Mr. Lincoln that,
when it was reported to him that Stoughton
had been captured, he remarked, with
characteristic humor, that he did not mind so much
the loss of a general - for he could make another
in five minutes - but he hated to lose the horses.
Slater and I remained for some time behind as
a rear guard and overtook Hunter, who had gone
on in command, at Warrenton. We found that
the whole population had turned out and were
giving my men an ovation. Stoughton and the
officers had breakfast with a citizen named
Beckham. The general had been a classmate at West
Point with Beckham's son, now a Confederate
artillery officer, and had spent a vacation with
him at his home. Stoughton now renewed his
acquaintance with his family.
We soon remounted and moved on south.
After crossing the Rappahannock, the men and
prisoners were put in charge of Dick Moran with
orders to meet me near Culpeper Court House the
next morning, while, with Hunter and the officers
on parole, I went on in advance and spent the
night near Brandy. As I had been in the saddle
for thirty-six hours, I retired to rest as soon as
we had eaten supper. The next morning there
was a cold rain, but after breakfast we started
for General Fitz Lee's headquarters.
When we arrived at our destination, we hitched
our horses in the front yard and went into the
house, where we found Fitz Lee writing at a table
before a log fire. We were cold and wet. In the
First Virginia Cavalry, Fitz Lee and I had been
well acquainted. He was very polite to his old
classmate and to the officers, when I introduced
them, but he treated me with indifference, did not
ask me to take a seat by the fire, nor seem
impressed by what I had done.
As a matter of historical fact, it is well known
that this episode created a sensation in both armies,
but the reception I received convinced me that
I was not a welcome person at those headquarters.
So, bidding the prisoners good-by and bowing to
Fitz Lee, Hunter and I rode off in the rain to the
telegraph office to send a report to Stuart, who
had his headquarters at Fredericksburg. The
operator told me that Stuart was on his way to
Culpeper and would arrive on the train that
evening, but he sent the dispatch and it was
delivered to Stuart. I met him at the depot and
can never forget the joy his generous heart
showed when he met me. That was a sufficient
reward. Major John Pelham was with Stuart.
This was the last time I ever saw Pelham, for he
was killed a week afterwards. As we walked off,
Stuart handed me a commission as captain from
Governor John Letcher. It gave me rank with
the Virginia troops, but, as there were no such
troops, it was a blank form, and I regarded it as
a mockery. Stuart remarked that he thought
the Confederate War Department would recognize
it. I said, in rather an abrupt and indignant
tone, "I want no recognition." I meant official
recognition. I did not affect to be indifferent to
public praise. Such a man is either too good or
too bad to live in this world. Stuart published
a general order announcing the capture of Stoughton
and had it printed, giving me fifty copies.
That satisfied me, and I soon returned to my field
of operations and again began war on the Potomac.
Headquarters Cavalry Division,
General Orders.
None know his daring enterprise and dashing heroism
better than those foul invaders, those strangers
themselves to such noble traits.
His last brilliant exploit - the capture of Brigadier-General
Stoughton, U. S. A., two captains, and thirty
other prisoners, together with their arms, equipments,
and fifty-eight horses - justifies this recognition in
General Orders. This feat, unparalleled in the war,
was performed in the midst of the enemy's troops, at
Fairfax Court House, without loss or injury.
The gallant band of Captain Mosby shares his
glory, as they did the danger of this enterprise, and are
worthy of such a leader.
J. E. B. Stuart,
regiment. This attempt to deprive me of a command
met with no favor from Stuart. I sent him
Fitz Lee's letter, and he issued an order for them
to stay until he recalled them. When the armies
began to move in April, the men went back, but
a considerable number of recruits had joined me,
and what the enemy called my "depredations"
continued. In the published records of the war
is the following letter from General Robert E.
Lee to President Davis, informing him of another
success I had soon after the capture of Stoughton:
Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia,
You will, I know, be
gratified to learn by the
enclosed despatch that the appointment conferred a
few days since on Captain John S. Mosby was not
unworthily bestowed. The point where he struck the
enemy is north of Fairfax Court-House, near the
Potomac, and far within the lines of the enemy. I wish
I could receive his appointment (as major) or some
official notification of it, that I might announce it to him.
R. E. Lee, General.
Captain Mosby, with his command, entered this
town this morning at 2 A.M. They captured my
patrols, horses, etc. They took Brigadier-General
Stoughton and horses, and all his men detached from
his brigade. They took every horse that could be
found, public or private; and the commanding officer
of the post, Colonel Johnstone, of the Fifth New York
Cavalry, made his escape from them in a nude state
by accident. They searched for me in every direction,
but being on the Vienna road visiting outposts, I made
my escape.
On the night of the 8th instant, say about two or
half past two A.M., Captain Mosby with his command
entered the village by an easterly direction. They
proceeded to Colonel Wyndham's headquarters and
took all his horses and movable property with them.
In the meantime another party of them entered the
residence of Colonel Johnstone and searched the house
for him. He had on their entering the town heard of
their movements and believing them to be the patrol,
went out to halt them, but soon found out his mistake.
He then entered the house again - he being
in a nude state - and got out backwards - they in
hot pursuit of him. In the meantime others were
dispatched to all quarters where officers were lodged,
taking them out of their beds, together with the
telegraph operator and assistant.
Colonel Johnstone lost his clothes and lay hidden
for some time before he heard we were gone.
O'Connor said he appeared in the state of Adam
before the fall. But he could not survive the
ridicule he incurred by it and disappeared.
Near Piedmont, Va., March 18, 1863.
General:
routing them. I brought off twenty-five prisoners
- a major, one captain, two lieutenants, and twenty-one
men, all their arms, twenty-six horses, and equipments.
One, severely wounded, was left on the
ground. The enemy pursued me in force, but were
checked by my rear-guard and gave up the pursuit.
My loss was nothing.
The enemy have moved their cavalry from Germantown
back of Fairfax Court House on the Alexandria
pike.
In this affair my
officers and men behaved splendidly.
(Signed) Jno. S. Mosby.
(Indorsement)
Respectfully forwarded
for the information of the
department and as evidence of the merit and continued
success of Captain Mosby.
R. E. Lee,
Washington, Vt., December 19, 1910.
Col. John S. Mosby,
Dear Colonel and Friend:
Most sincerely and cordially yours,
Burlington, Vt., December 28, 1910.
Dear Col. Mosby:
During the war for the Union he was a first lieutenant
in the First Vermont Cavalry, and was captured
by you at Herndon Station on the 17th of March,
1863. Lieut. Cheney was one of the bravest and
best officers in the regiment, and was dangerously
wounded in the charge made by the Company in front
of Round Top (Gettysburg) on the afternoon of July 3,
1863.
I had the pleasure of meeting you at the
inauguration of President McKinley, at which time
I was adjutant of Vermont, and presented you to Hon.
Josiah Grout, then Governor of this state, who at the
Miskel Farm fight between the First Vermont Cavalry
and yourself was most dangerously wounded. . . .
You were kind enough to say that the First Vermont
Cavalry was one of the very best regiments you had
met in action. . . .
Yours very truly,
It appears that on the evening of the 31st ultimo,
Major Taggart, at Union Church two miles above
Peach Grove, received information that Mosby, with
about sixty-five men, was near Dranesville. He
immediately dispatched Capt. Flint, with 150 men of
the First Vermont, to rout or capture Mosby and his
force. . . . Turning to the right they followed up the
Broad Run to a place marked J. Meskel [sic]. Here
at a house, they came upon Mosby, who was
completely surprised and wholly unprepared for an attack
from our forces. Had a proper disposition been made
of our troops, Mosby could not, by any possible means,
have escaped. It seems that around this house was
a high board fence and stone wall, between which and
the road was also another fence and ordinary farm
gate. Capt. Flint took his men through the gate,
and, at a distance from the house, fired a volley at
Mosby and his men, who were assembled about the
house, - doing but slight damage to them. He then
ordered a sabre charge, which was also ineffective,
on account of the fence which intervened. Mosby
waited until the men were checked by the fence, and
then opened the gate of the barnyard, where his men
were collected, saddling and bridling their horses,
and opened fire upon them, killing and wounding
several. The men became panic-stricken, and fled
precipitately through this gate, through which to
make their escape. The opening was small; they got
wedged together, and a fearful confusion followed;
while Mosby's men followed them up, and poured
into the crowd a severe fire. Here, while endeavoring
to rally his men, Capt. Flint was killed, and Lieut.
Grout, of the same Company, mortally wounded (will
probably die to-day).
Headquarters Army of Northern Virginia,
Capt. J. S. Mosby,
Captain:
(Signed) W. W. Taylor, A. A. G.
Fauquier County, Va., April 7, 1863.
General:
succeed in gaining their rear as I had expected, and
only captured 4 or 5 videttes. It being late in the
evening, and our horses very much jaded, I concluded
to return. I had gone not over a mile back when we
saw a large body of enemy's cavalry, which, according
to their own reports, numbered 200 men, rapidly
pursuing. I feigned a retreat, desiring to draw them
off from their camps. At a point where the enemy
had blockaded the road with fallen trees, I formed
to receive them, for with my knowledge of the Yankee
character I knew they would imagine themselves fallen
into an ambuscade. When they had come within 100
yards of me I ordered a charge, to which my men
responded with a vim that swept everything before them.
The Yankees broke when we got in 75 yards of them;
and it was more of a chase than a fight for 4 or 5 miles.
We killed 5, wounded a considerable number, and
brought off 1 lieutenant and 35 men prisoners. I did
not have over 50 men with me, some having gone back
with the prisoners and others having gone on ahead,
when we started back, not anticipating any pursuit.
On Monday, March 31, I went down in the direction
of Dranesville to capture several strong outposts in
the vicinity of that place. On reaching there I
discovered that they had fallen back about 10 miles down
the Alexandria pike. I then returned 6 or 8 miles
back and stopped about 10 o'clock at night at a point
about 2 miles from the pike. Early the next morning
one of my men, whom I had left over on the Leesburg
pike, came dashing in, and announced the rapid
approach of the enemy. But he had scarcely given us
the information when the enemy appeared a few
hundred yards off, coming up at a gallop. At this time
our horses were eating; all had their bridles off, and
some even their saddles - they were all tied in a
barnyard.
Throwing open the gate I ordered a counter-charge,
to which my men promptly responded. The Yankees
never dreaming of our assuming the offensive, terrified
at the yells of the men as they dashed on, broke
and fled in every direction. We drove them in
confusion seven or eight miles down the pike. We left
on the field nine of them killed - among them a
captain and lieutenant - and about fifteen too badly
wounded for removal; in this lot two lieutenants.
We brought off 82 prisoners, many of these also
wounded. I have since visited the scene of the fight.
The enemy sent up a flag of truce for their dead and
wounded, but many of them being severely wounded,
they established a hospital on the ground. The
surgeon who attended them informs me that a great
number of those who escaped were wounded. The
force of the enemy was six companies of the First
Vermont Cavalry, one of their oldest and best regiments,
and the prisoners inform me that they had every available
man with them. There were certainly not less
than 200; the prisoners say it was more than that. I
had about 65 men in this affair. In addition to the
prisoners, we took all their arms and about 100 horses
and equipments. Privates Hart, Hurst, Keyes, and
Davis were wounded. The latter has since died.
Both on this and several other occasions they have
borne themselves with conspicuous gallantry. In
addition to those mentioned above I desire to place on
record the names of several others, whose promptitude
and boldness in closing in with the enemy contributed
much to the success of the fight. They are Lieutenant
Chapman (late of Dixie Artillery), Sergt. Hunter and
Privates Wellington and Harry Hatcher, Turner,
Wild, Sowers, Ames, and Sibert. There are many
others, I have no doubt, deserving of honorable mention,
but the above are only those who came under my
personal observation. I confess that on this occasion
I had not taken sufficient precautions to guard against
surprise. It was 10 at night when I reached the place
where the fight came off on the succeeding day. We
had ridden through snow and mud upwards of 40 miles,
and both men and horses were nearly broken down;
besides, the enemy had fallen back a distance of about
18 miles.
(Signed) John S. Mosby,
[Indorsements]
Headquarters Cavalry Division,
Respectfully forwarded,
as in perfect keeping with
his other brilliant achievements. Recommended for
promotion.
J. E. B. Stuart,
Respectfully forwarded
for the information of the
Department. Telegraphic reports already sent in.
R. E. Lee,
April 22, 1863.
Adjutant-General:
J. A. S. (Seddon).
Fairfax C. H., May 5, 1863.
. . . On the third of
May, between 8 and 9 A.M.,
Mosby with his band of guerrillas, together with a
portion of the Black Horse Cavalry and a portion of
a North Carolina regiment, came suddenly through
the woods upon 50 of our men of the First Virginia
Cavalry, who were in camp feeding their horses, just
having returned from a scout, the remainder of that
regiment being out in a different direction to scout the
country on the right of the Warrenton and Alexandria
Railroad and toward the Rappahannock.
Our men being surprised and completely surrounded,
rallied in a house close at hand and where a sharp
fight ensued. Our men defended themselves as long
as their ammunition lasted, notwithstanding the rebels
built a large fire about the house, of hay and straw
and brushwood. The flames reached the house and
their ammunition being entirely expended they were
obliged to surrender. At this juncture a portion of
the Fifth Regiment New York Cavalry which was
posted in the rear some distance from the First
Virginia Cavalry came to their rescue, making a brilliant
charge, which resulted in the complete annihilation of
Mosby's command and recaptured our men and property.
Our men pursued the rebels in every direction,
killing and wounding a large number, and had our
horses been in better condition and not tired out by
the service of the last few days, Mosby nor a single
one of his men would have escaped.
The rebel loss was very heavy, their killed being
strewn along the road. . . . [One man was killed
and about twenty wounded.]
May 30, 1863.
We had a hard fight
with Mosby this morning, who
had artillery, - the same which was used to destroy
the train of cars. We whipped him like the devil, and
took his artillery. My forces are still pursuing him.
June 6, 1863.
Last Saturday morning I
captured a train of twelve
cars on the Virginia and Alexandria Railroad loaded
with supplies for the troops above. The cars were
fired and entirely consumed. . . . Having destroyed
the train, I proceeded some distance back, when I
recognized the enemy in a strong force immediately in
my front. One shell which exploded in their ranks
sufficed to put them to flight. After going about a
mile further, the enemy were reported pursuing.
Their advance was again checked by a shot from the
howitzer. In this way we skirmished for several
miles, until seeing the approach of their overwhelming
numbers and the impossibility of getting off the gun, I
resolved to make them pay for it as dearly as possible.
Taking a good position on a hill commanding the road
we awaited their onset. They came up quite gallantly,
not in dispersed order, but in columns of fours,
crowded in a narrow lane. At eighty yards we opened
on them with grape and following this up with a charge
of cavalry, we drove them half a mile back in confusion.
Twice again did they rally and as often were
sent reeling back. At last our ammunition became
exhausted, and we were forced to abandon the gun.
We did not then abandon it without a struggle, and a
fierce hand to hand combat ensued in which, though
overpowered by numbers, many of the enemy were
made to bite the dust. In this affair I had only 48
men - the forces of the enemy were five regiments of
cavalry. My loss, one killed - Captain Hoskins, a
British officer who fell when gallantly fighting, - four
wounded. It is with pleasure I recommend to your
attention the heroic conduct of Lieutenant Chapman
and Privates Mountjoy and Beattie, who stood by their
gun until surrounded by the enemy.
Middleburg, Va., June 10, 1863.
General:
(Signed) John S. Mosby,
[Indorsement]
June 15, 1863. Respectfully forwarded.
In consideration of his
brilliant services, I hope the President will promote
Maj. Mosby.
J. E. B. Stuart,
I resumed my own position now, at Rector's cross
roads, and being in constant communication with the
commanding general, had scouts busily employed
watching and reporting the enemy's movements, and
reporting the same to the commanding general. In
this difficult search the fearless and indefatigable
Maj. Mosby was particularly efficient. His information
was always accurate and reliable.
General Lee now determined to cross the Potomac
and make a strategic offensive. His main
object was really to create a diversion and
conduct a great foraging expedition into
Pennsylvania for the relief of Virginia and his fasting
army - the South was almost exhausted. The
movement would temporarily draw the enemy from
Virginia, but he did not hope to dictate a peace
north of the Potomac, nor could he have
expected to maintain his army there without a line
of communication and base of supply.
When Lee crossed the Potomac, he had no
objective point. His army was now organized
with three corps, under Longstreet, Ewell, and
A. P. Hill - Stonewall Jackson had crossed the
Great River. Stuart was his Chief of Cavalry.
Early in June the movement that terminated
in the unexpected encounter at Gettysburg began
from Fredericksburg up the river. Previously
the cavalry corps had been sent in advance to
Culpeper County to prevent the enemy's cavalry
from crossing the Rappahannock and to get the
benefit of the grazing ground. Lee followed with
Longstreet and Ewell. A. P. Hill's corps was left
behind to amuse Hooker. Lee wanted to conceal
his march so that he could cross the Blue Ridge
and surprise Milroy in the Shenandoah Valley.
Hooker's man in the balloon discovered that some
camp grounds had been abandoned, so a
reconnaissance was ordered to find out what it
meant. But the force met with such resistance
that Hooker concluded that Lee's whole army
was there.
To relieve the Administration of anxiety about
invasion, Hooker telegraphed to Washington what
the reconnoitring force reported - just what Lee
wanted him to do. The impression was confirmed
by pretended deserters, who said they belonged to
reinforcements that had just come to Lee. Deception
is the ethics of war.
On June 8, at Brandy Station in Culpeper
County, there was a review of the cavalry. The
spectators little imagined that the squadrons
which appeared in the grand parade before the
Commander-in-Chief would be in deadly combat
on the same ground the next day -
"Rider
and horse - friend, foe - in one red burial
blent."
Hooker knew that the
Confederate cavalry was
there and thought it was assembled for a raid
across the Potomac. So he sent his cavalry corps
up the river to intercept it. On June 6 he wrote
Halleck: "As the accumulation of the heavy rebel
force of cavalry about Culpeper may mean
mischief, I am determined, if practicable, to break it
up in its incipiency. I shall send all my cavalry
against them, stiffened by about 3000 infantry."
Buford's division had already reached the
railroad. He was instructed: "On arriving at
Bealeton, should you find yourself with sufficient
force, you will drive the enemy out of his camps
near Culpeper Court House across the Rapidan,
destroying the bridges at that point." The
Rapidan is a tributary of the Rappahannock.
Hooker's instructions to Pleasanton show that
his object was not to get information, but to
prevent a cavalry raid across the Potomac.
But, to cover up his defeat, Pleasanton afterwards
claimed that he was only making a reconnaissance.
A reconnaissance is made to discover the position
and strength of an enemy. A sufficient force is
applied to compel him to display himself, and,
when that is done, the object is accomplished and
the attacking force retires. No matter whether
Pleasanton was making a real attack, or a
reconnaissance, his expedition was a failure. If he
had discovered the presence of Lee, with
Longstreet and Ewell, he would have reported it to
Hooker. He had been instructed that he would
be absent four or five days, and to take along five
days' rations, with pack mules and tents for the
officers. Such preparations do not indicate that
he was expected to cross the Rappahannock in the
morning and recross in the evening.
Stuart knew that the enemy's camps were over
the river, and that their outposts were near.
Confederate pickets lined the river with grand
guards in support. On June 9, at daylight, the
enemy began crossing at Beverly's and Kelly's
fords - several miles apart, above and below the
railroad bridge. The plan was for the two
divisions to unite at Brandy - four miles away -
and then move on six miles to the Court House
where the camps of Stuart's cavalry corps were
supposed to be. The Unionists did not expect to
meet anything near the river except pickets.
Their error was in thinking the Confederate
camps were ten miles away, and that there would
be no collision in force before the columns united.
The fact was that Stuart's headquarters were
between Brandy and the river and near the camps
of two brigades. Another brigade, Jones's, was
a mile and a half from Beverly's Ford, where
Buford's division crossed. Each of Pleasanton's
divisions was supported by a brigade of infantry.
Captain Grimsley's company was picketing at
the bridge. Before daybreak a vidette informed
him that he could hear troops crossing the railroad.
The captain put his ear to the ground and,
hearing the click of the artillery wheels passing
over the iron rails, sent a courier with the
information to Jones. Captain Gibson's company
gallantly resisted the crossing at the ford. The
leading regiment was the Eighth New York
Cavalry under the command of a Mississippian,
"Grimes" Davis. He had hardly reached the
southern bank before he fell.
The camps were aroused by the firing at the
fords, and there was saddling and mounting in
hot haste. The Seventh Virginia Cavalry was
the grand guard, and it is said that many rode
into the fight bareback and without their boots.
For some unexplained reason Jones's artillery was
between his camps and the pickets on the river.
As a general rule, it was in the wrong place, but
on this occasion it happened to be in the right
place. On account of the scarcity of grain, the
horses had been turned out to graze, and there
would have been no time to harness and hitch
them before the enemy reached the camp. The
Yankees were driving a body of Confederate
cavalry back and just emerging through the woods,
when some of the men ran a gun into the road, by
hand, and opened fire on the column. The troops
halted; the delay was fatal, and the guns were
saved.
As there was no precedent in war for an artillery
camp so near an outpost Pleasanton naturally
concluded that the Confederates knew he
was coming and had prepared a masked battery
to receive him; that he had run into an ambuscade.
War is not a science, but an art. Pleasanton
was surprised and halted - and lost. That he
had miscalculated the resistance he would meet at
the ford may be inferred from the dispatch he sent
Hooker at 7.40 A.M., "The enemy is in strong
cavalry force here. We had a severe fight. They
were aware of our movement and prepared."
To prepare Halleck for a surprise after he had
promised so much, Hooker telegraphed him,
"Pleasanton reports that after an encounter with
the rebel cavalry over the Beverly ford he has not
been able to make head against it."
At 2.30 P.M., as he had made no progress,
Pleasanton telegraphed back, "I will recross this
P.M." And so ended his expedition on which he
had started to the Rapidan, on his so-called
reconnaissance.
When the firing was first heard at the fords,
Stuart sent Robertson's brigade below, towards
Kelly's, to hold Gregg's division in check on that
road, and with Hampton's brigade went at a
gallop to meet the force at Beverly's ford.
Buford's division would soon have been driven
over the river, but the news came that Gregg's
division was in his rear. At first Stuart would
not believe this, but in some way Robertson had
allowed Gregg to pass him unobserved on another
road. So, leaving W. H. F. Lee's brigade, which
had just come up, on Buford's flank to hold him
in check, Stuart turned and went to meet Gregg
with Hampton's and Jones's brigades.
On the field around Brandy there was now the
greatest mounted combat of the war - probably
of any war. Gregg was driven back over the river,
leaving behind him three guns and six battle
flags. Buford and Pleasanton followed him back
to their camps. Pleasanton had repeated the
Austrian manoeuvre at Rivoli of having a double
line of operations, and Stuart had done just what
Bonaparte did there, when he was attacked in
front and on his flanks and nearly surrounded -
struck and defeated the columns in succession
before they united.
The American War of Secession showed in a
surprising manner what could be done in this respect.
Stuart's screening of the left wheel of the Confederate
army, after the battle of Chancellorsville, for instance,
was a masterpiece, and the reconnaissance carried out
by Mosby's scouts during the same period was equally
brilliant.
approach of an enemy from that direction, found
himself surrounded. Pleasanton had not
discovered that Lee, with two army corps, was in
Culpeper; and Hooker thought that the whole of
Lee's army was still on his front on the lower
Rappahannock. There was so little suspicion
of the impending blow in the Valley that on June
12 Hooker invited President Lincoln to come
down and witness some practice with an
incendiary shell. Lincoln accepted, but afterwards,
instead of going, sent Hooker this dispatch, "Do
you think it possible that 15,000 of Ewell's men can
be at Winchester?"
At first Hooker would not believe it, but he
soon struck his tents and started to keep between
Lee and Washington. To Schenck, at Baltimore,
Lincoln, with characteristic humor, said, "Get
Milroy from Winchester to Harper's Ferry, if
possible. He will be gobbled up, if he is not
already past salvation."
After capturing the most of Milroy's force,
Ewell moved on and crossed the Potomac on
June 15. Lee, with Longstreet and A. P. Hill,
followed him to the Valley and halted a week,
while Stuart's cavalry moved east of the ridge as
a curtain to conceal the operation. The hostile
armies marched in concentric circles, Lee having
the initiative. When Lee moved, Hooker also
moved so as always to cover Washington. Of
course Lee must have expected that Hooker
would maintain the same relative position and
follow him after he had crossed the Potomac.
The right of Hooker's army now rested on the
river, where he had laid pontoons for crossing.
Stuart was on his front to watch and report his
movements to Lee. On June 15, Ewell, having
crossed into Maryland, had sent his cavalry on to
forage in Pennsylvania. At that time General
Lee seems to have been undecided as to a plan of
campaign, except to subsist on the enemy and
draw him out of Virginia. On the nineteenth
Lee wrote Ewell, who was about Hagerstown,
that "should we be able to detain General
Hooker's army from following you, you would be
able to accomplish as much unmolested as the
whole army could with General Hooker in its
front. If your advance causes Hooker to cross
the Potomac, or separate his army in any way,
Longstreet can follow you."
So Lee's crossing the Potomac was contingent
on Hooker's following Ewell. All that Ewell
then had to do was to collect supplies, for he
met no resistance. Lee said nothing about A.
P. Hill crossing the river. This letter proves
that he then had no objective, but a biographer,
Long - his military secretary - asserted, in the
face of the record, that Gettysburg was the
objective when Lee started from Fredericksburg,
and that he was surprised on hearing that Hooker
had followed him over the Potomac. There was
not a soldier or even a wagon-master in the army
who was surprised to hear it. Lee seemed to be
content to hold Hooker in Virginia, while Ewell
was living on the Pennsylvania farmers, and his
sending another corps across the Potomac
depended on Hooker. So, when Lee concluded to
follow Ewell, he must have been sure that Hooker
was ready to cross.
I also directed General Stuart, should the enemy
have so far retired from his front as to permit of the
departure of a portion of the cavalry, to march with
three brigades across the Potomac and place himself
on your right and in communication with you, keep
you advised of the movements of the enemy, and assist
in collecting supplies for the army.
guided by circumstances, and, possibly, he might
take Harrisburg. Lee had already written Stuart
to leave two brigades to watch the enemy and
take care of the flank and rear of the army and,
with three brigades, to join Ewell, who was
marching to the Susquehanna. Stuart was
instructed to act as Ewell's Chief of Cavalry and
to "collect all the supplies you can for the use
of the army." As no enemy was following Ewell,
and as there was none on his front, except militia,
Stuart would really have had nothing but foraging
to do, if he had joined Ewell, who, by this time,
was sending back long trains loaded with provisions.
He speaks of your leaving via Hopewell Gap [in
Bull Run Mountain] and passing by the rear of the
enemy. I think that your passage of the Potomac
by our rear [west of the Blue Ridge at Shepherdstown]
at the present moment will, in a measure, disclose our
plans. You had better not leave us, therefore, unless
you take the proposed route in the rear of the enemy.
Yours of 4 o'clock this afternoon is received. I
have forwarded your letter to General Stuart with the
suggestion that he pass by the enemy's rear, if he
thinks that he may get through. We have nothing
of the enemy to-day.
When Lee was in the Shenandoah Valley, he
wrote twice to President Davis that Hooker's
army was drawing close to the Potomac and had
a pontoon across it, and that he thought he could
throw Hooker over the river. Lee also wrote to
Imboden, who was moving farther west, thanked
him for the cattle and sheep he had sent to him,
and urged him to collect all he could. On June
23, 5 P.M., Lee wrote again to Stuart. He
repeated the instructions about joining Ewell and
authorized him to cross the Potomac west, at
Shepherdstown, or east of the Blue Ridge, by the
enemy's rear. "In either case," said General
Lee, "after crossing the river you must move on
and feel the right of Ewell's troops, collecting
information, provisions, etc."
Lee seemed to be more intent about gathering
rations than anything else. There is not a word
in either of his dispatches to Stuart about reporting
the enemy's movements to him. Lee's biographers
say there was. He would neither order
nor expect Stuart to do an impossible thing, but
he told him what instructions to give the
commanders of the two cavalry brigades he would
leave behind. Stuart did give each of the
commanders minute instructions to report the
movements of the enemy directly to Lee, and to follow
on the flank and rear of the army when the enemy
left Virginia. There was no complaint against
Jones and Robertson, the brigade commanders,
for not having performed this duty - conclusive
evidence that they did.
If Stuart had gone the western route by
Shepherdstown, he would have had to cross and
recross the Blue Ridge and to march in a zigzag
circuit to join Ewell. Thus he would have been
a long way from the enemy and out of
communication with Lee. Lee's movements did not
depend on the cavalry he had ordered to join
Ewell. Stuart chose the most direct route to
the Susquehanna by the rear of the enemy. It
afforded an opportunity, as Lee had instructed
him, "to do them all the damage you can" and to
"collect provisions"; he would break the
communications with Washington and destroy
Hooker's transportation. Such a blow would
compel the latter, instead of following Lee,
to retreat to his base and wait for repairs.
The seven corps of Hooker's army were
scattered through three counties in Virginia,
with his right resting on the Potomac. The plan
for Stuart to pass through Hooker's army was
really a copy of the campaign of Marengo, when
Bonaparte crossed the Alps and cut the Austrian
communications in Italy. It was a bold enterprise
- its safety lay in its audacity - the enemy
would be caught unprepared, and at the same time
it would protect Lee's communications by drawing
off Hooker's cavalry in pursuit. It was known that
the camps of the different corps were so far apart that
a column of cavalry could easily pass between them.
I was at headquarters when Stuart wrote his
last dispatch to Lee, informing him of the route
he would go, and sat by him when he was writing
it - in fact, I dictated a large part of it. I had
just returned from a scout inside the enemies
lines and brought the intelligence that induced
Stuart to undertake to pass through them. I
remember that Fitz Lee and Hampton came into
the room while we were writing.
General Stuart came, finally, to repose unlimited
confidence in his (Mosby's) resources and relied
implicitly upon him. The writer recalls an instance of
this in June, 1863. General Stuart was then near
Middleburg, watching the United States Army -
then about to move toward Pennsylvania - but could
get no accurate information from his scouts. Silent,
puzzled, and doubtful, the General walked up and
down knitting his brows and reflecting. When the
lithe figure of Mosby appeared, Stuart uttered an
exclamation of relief and satisfaction. They were
speedily in private conversation, and Mosby came out
again to mount his quick gray mare and set out in a
heavy storm for the Federal camps. On the next day
he returned with information which put the entire
cavalry in motion. He had penetrated General
Hooker's camps, ascertained everything, and safely
returned. This he had done in his gray uniform with
his pistols in his belt, and I believe that it was on this
occasion that he gave a characteristic evidence of his
coolness.
We found out to-day that our guide was captured
at Coleman's house yesterday. Coleman lives about
two miles from here, and he has a lot of forage; our
guide and quarter-master went there for it and were
caught by a "Secesh" there said to be Mosby.
1
Three of Lee's staff officers, Marshall, Long,
and Taylor, have given accounts of the Gettysburg
campaign that misrepresent the orders Stuart
received and claim that Lee relied on him for
intelligence. Now the letters of Lee to Ewell,
directing him to move to the Susquehanna and
to Stuart to join Ewell with three brigades, are
copied in Lee's dispatch book in the handwriting
of Colonel Charles Marshall, who also wrote Lee's
reports. The implications of disobedience against
Stuart in the reports are contradicted by these
letters. The dispatch book was in Marshall's
possession when he delivered a philippic on Lee's
birthday (1896) in which he imputed disobedience
of orders to Stuart and asserted that Lee depended
on him for information. He did not say what
Lee expected the two cavalry brigades to do, nor
did he say what they didn't do - he didn't
mention them. The letter of 5 P.M., June 23,
directing Stuart to go to Ewell on the Susquehanna
and authorizing him to pass by the enemy's
rear, is in the handwriting of Colonel Walter
Taylor, Lee's Assistant Adjutant-General. He
wrote an account of Gettysburg charging Stuart
with disobedience in going to Ewell and not
remaining with Lee and reporting the movements of
the enemy to him, and blaming Stuart, as Marshall
did, for the disaster at Gettysburg. Long
falsified the record in the same way. Apparently
they never dreamed that there would be a
resurrection of Lee's dispatch book.
On the authority of the staff officers, a historian
wrote that Stuart left Lee without orders and
went off on a wild-goose chase. I wrote and
asked him if he thought that Ewell was a wild
goose. The truth is Lee was so anxious for Stuart
to cross the river ahead of Hooker that he wrote
him, "I fear he will steal a march on us and get
across the Potomac before we are aware."
Yet his report says that he was astonished to
hear, on June 28, at Chambersburg, that Hooker
had crossed. The staff officers knew perfectly
well how the battle was precipitated, but they
concealed it. They intentionally misrepresented
it. Their animus towards Stuart is manifest.
Taylor, in his narrative of his service with General
Lee, did not even mention the great cavalry combat
at Brandy, which his chief rode on the field to
witness. Marshall and Long, to disparage Stuart,
referred to the battle and used the same phrase,
"he was roughly handled." Long, to deprive
Stuart of the glory of his victory, said that a
division of infantry came to his support. The
record shows that General Lee kept his infantry
concealed that day.
Early on the morning of June 25, Stuart's
column crossed the Bull Run, expecting to pass
directly through Hooker's army and to reach the
Potomac that evening. This could have been
done easily on the day before. But on the
morning of the twenty-fourth, A. P. Hill's corps,
at Charles Town, moved to the Potomac in plain
view of the Federal signal station on Maryland
Heights. Longstreet, at Millwood, three times
as far from the river as Hill, started at the same
time, but he marched by Martinsburg and out of
sight of the signal station, crossing at Williamsport.
Hill had crossed the day before at Shepherdstown
and waited for Longstreet. There
was no emergency to require this movement.
Hooker was waiting on Lee and had not sent a
single regiment over the river, although Ewell
was foraging in Pennsylvania. The news of
Hill's and Longstreet's crossing the river was
immediately telegraphed to Hooker, and the next
morning he set his army in motion for the pontoons.
As his corps crossed the Potomac, they
marched west for South Mountain and occupied
the Gaps. Longstreet and Hill united in Maryland
and spent two days with General Lee within
a few miles of Hooker's camps. Hooker's signal
stations were in full view on peaks, flapping their
flags. Each of Lee's corps had a signal corps,
and Lee had a number of scouts to send on the
mountain to see Hooker's army on the other side.
The truth is that Lee and Stuart got their
information of the enemy through individual scouts
and not by using the cavalry in a body. Lee says
that one of these scouts brought him the information
at Chambersburg that Hooker had crossed
the Potomac. I have no doubt that Lee used
any means he could to get intelligence of the
enemy, for the simplicity of the bucolic ages
was not a characteristic of the Confederate commander.
The enemy crossed the Potomac in front of
the two cavalry brigades that were left to watch
him. There is no doubt that the cavalry did
their duty, and that Lee waited in Maryland for
Hooker's army to get over the river. If A. P.
Hill had only waited a day longer in his camps,
Hooker would have stood still, and Stuart could
easily have crossed the Potomac on the twenty-fifth.
It would be a severe reflection on Lee and
his generals to suppose that they spent two days
so near an army of a hundred thousand men and
didn't even suspect it. Hooker's army was crossing
the river twenty-five miles below at the same
time Lee was crossing. Stuart soon ran against
Hooker's columns on the roads on which he had
expected to march. But they had the right of
way and kept on, while Stuart, after an artillery
duel, had to make a detour around them and
did not cross the river until the night of the
twenty-seventh. Thus Stuart was delayed two
days, but he sent a dispatch informing Lee that
Hooker was moving to the Potomac. The appearance
of a body of cavalry on the flank of Hooker's
army created great anxiety for his rear, and
Pleasanton's cavalry corps was kept as a rear
guard and was the last to cross on the pontoons
on the night of the twenty-seventh.
At the time Stuart was crossing the Potomac at
Seneca, Lee had reached Chambersburg. Ordinarily
the Union cavalry should have been in
front, harassing Lee's flank and rear, but up to
the day of the battle Lee's communications were
intact, and he had not lost a wagon or a straggler.
The enemy's cavalry were in Hooker's rear, on
the defensive, and they had no idea that Stuart was
crossing the river between them and Washington.
Stuart spent the night (June 27) in Maryland,
capturing a lot of boats carrying supplies to the
army on the canal, and on the twenty-eighth
moved north and marched all night to join Ewell.
During the day Stuart caught a supply train going
to headquarters from Washington, and, as his
orders required, he took the supplies along to
Ewell. The presence of the Confederate cavalry
between the army and Washington created a
panic, which was increased by the report that
there was another body south of the river. For
several days communication with the Union army
was cut, Washington was isolated, and Stuart's
column attracted more attention than Lee's army
in the Cumberland Valley.
Meade took command of the Army of the Potomac
on the afternoon of the twenty-eighth at
Frederick City, and there was great commotion
in his camps when the news came that Stuart
had their mules and provisions. The quartermaster-general
wired to Ingalls, "Your communications
are now in the hands of General Fitzhugh
Lee's brigade."
On June 27, the day that General Lee arrived
at Chambersburg, the corps that Hooker had
advanced to the Gaps in Maryland were
withdrawn twenty miles to the east, and the Army
of the Potomac was concentrated at Frederick
City. As a result, Lee's communications were
no longer even threatened. After crossing the
river, Hooker had moved west, as he said, to
strike Lee's rear, but the War Department interfered
with the plan, and he asked to be relieved.
Ewell was then marching to the Susquehanna, so
Hooker's counter movement to Frederick was
made to protect the Capital and Baltimore from
any movement down the Susquehanna. Lee must
have considered the probability of an operation
against his rear, when he wrote President Davis,
after he reached the Potomac, that he thought he
could throw Hooker's army over the river, and
that, as he did not have sufficient force to guard
his communications, he would have to abandon
them. But as he would live on the country, he
did not have to guard a base of supply, and his
communications were not vital.
Colonel Marshall, it seems to me in the light of
the evidence, was unjust to his chief when he
represented him to have been surprised and almost
in a panic when he heard, at Chambersburg, on
the night of the twenty-eighth, that Hooker had
crossed the Potomac. He did not explain how
Lee could have thought that the Northern army
would remain in Virginia, while the Confederates
were ravaging Pennsylvania, nor why he changed
his plan of campaign to protect his communications.
It is reported that your train of one hundred and
fifty wagons has been captured by Fitzhugh Lee near
Rockville. Unless cavalry is sent to guard your
communications with Washington, they will be cut off.
It is reported here that there is still a considerable
rebel force south of the Potomac.
started off in the opposite direction on Stuart's
trail. That did seem as hopeless as chasing a
wild goose.
Meade said to Halleck, "I can now only say
that it appears to me I must move towards the
Susquehanna, keeping Washington and Baltimore
well-covered, and, if the enemy is checked in his
attempt, to cross the Susquehanna, or, if he turn
towards Baltimore, to give him battle."
Meade spent a day at Frederick and on the
thirtieth started on his campaign. Lee was still
at Chambersburg. His staff officers say that at
that time Gettysburg was the objective point on
which both Lee and Meade were marching, and that
there was a race between them to occupy it first.
Lee could easily have occupied Gettysburg while
Meade was still at Frederick. Meade's communications
were now broken, and for several days he
was drifting. He sent off to the east two of his
cavalry divisions and three army corps to intercept
Stuart, so after two days' marching a large part
of Meade's army was as far from Lee as it was at
Frederick. If General Lee had known how Ewell
and Stuart would attract Meade to the east, he
would not have recalled Ewell so soon.
On the night of the thirtieth Meade was still
in a fog. He had not heard that Ewell had
withdrawn from the Susquehanna, so he wrote
to Halleck, by a courier, that he would push
farther east the next day to the Harrisburg railroad,
and open communication with Baltimore.
But at 11.30 P.M., on the thirtieth, a telegram was
sent from Harrisburg to be forwarded by a messenger
to Meade, telling him that Lee was falling
back. Meade received this news on the morning
of July 1, and he at once recalled the orders he
had issued to push on towards the Susquehanna
and determined to take a defensive position. He
wrote Halleck of the change and that he would
not advance farther, but would retire to the line
of Pipe Creek and await an attack - which would
have satisfied Lee. If Ewell had remained a day
longer at Carlisle and Early at York, Meade would
have moved to the Susquehanna, and there would
have been no battle at Gettysburg. Halleck must
have been surprised by Meade's dispatch, for he
had told him at Frederick that his object was to
find and fight Lee.
After he got the news about Ewell, Meade issued
a circular directing the corps commanders to hold
the enemy in check, if attacked, and to retire to
Pipe Creek. Reynolds, with the First Corps,
was on his extreme left and had been directed
to move early on July 1 on Gettysburg - merely
in observation. Meade wrote Reynolds that he
had been ordered to Gettysburg before the news
came that Ewell had withdrawn from the Susquehanna.
But Reynolds started early, never received
Meade's letter or the circular of recall,
and was killed.
On the night of the thirtieth Stuart arrived at
Dover and learned that Early's division of Ewell's
corps, which he expected to join at York, had
marched west that morning. As he was ordered
to report to Ewell, after a short rest Stuart moved
on to Carlisle, where he knew Ewell had been.
But he sent a staff officer on Early's track to
report to General Lee, whom he found on the field
of Gettysburg. Stuart reached Carlisle that
night, but Ewell, with his cavalry and two divisions,
had gone south. It was fortunate for Lee
that Stuart did go to Carlisle.
Couch had collected a force of about 15,000
at Harrisburg and had been ordered to coöperate
with Meade and attack Lee's communications.
Stuart met his advance at Carlisle, an artillery
duel ensued, and it was thought by the Federalists
that Ewell had returned. So the troops on the
march from Harrisburg turned back, and the
trains that were bringing their supplies from different
points in the country were stampeded by the
firing. Stuart left that night for Gettysburg and
arrived about noon the next day, in time to meet
the two divisions of cavalry which had been away
in pursuit of him. Couch's force started again
from Harrisburg, but had to wait for rations.
He did not get off until July 4, after the battle
had been fought, and never overtook Lee's trains.
Stuart's march of a column of cavalry around the
Union army will be regarded, in the light of the
record, as one of the greatest achievements in war,
viewed either as an independent operation or
raid, or in its strategic relation to the campaign.
But all the advantage gained by it was neutralized
by the indiscretion of a corps commander and was
obscured by the great disaster to our arms for
which it was in no way responsible.
I hold therefore that such circumstances render a
disturbance of the rear communications of an army an
important matter. It will often do the opponent more
damage, and contribute more to a favorable decision
of arms than the intervention of a few cavalry divisions
in the decisive battle itself. One does not, of course,
exclude the possibility of the other. General Stuart,
in the campaign of Gettysburg, rode all around the
hostile army, broke up its communications, drew
hostile troops away from the decisive point, and yet
was in place on the wing of the army on the day of the
battle. What this man performed with cavalry and
the inestimable damage he inflicted on his opponent
are worth studying. The fortune of war, which lay
in might and in the nature of things, he could not turn.
A raid is a predatory incursion, generally against
the supplies and communications of an enemy.
The object of a raid is to embarrass an enemy by
striking a vulnerable point and destroying his
subsistence. The operation should be in coöperation
with, but independent of, an army. But
Stuart's march was a combined movement with
Ewell and not a raid. His objective was Ewell's
flank on the Susquehanna. The spoil he captured
was an incident, not the object, of the march.
It was no more a raid than if he had crossed the
Blue Ridge, as he was authorized by Lee, and
travelled to join Ewell by a route on which he
would have no opportunity for adventure. But
General Lee's orders show that he was not
indifferent either to the embarrassment of the enemy
or to the spoil he might capture. Ewell already
had an abundance of cavalry for ordinary outpost
duty. It was the personality of Stuart that
was needed - not cavalry.
During this campaign, the operations of the
cavalry were coördinate with the movements of
the army as a unit. On the evening of June 27,
Lee arrived at Chambersburg, while Hill turned
east and went on seven miles. This shows that
General Lee did not intend to move farther north,
but to concentrate in that vicinity. Ewell had
reached Carlisle - thirty miles distant. So Lee
wrote him on the evening of the twenty-seventh
to return to Chambersburg and informed him that
Hooker had crossed the Potomac. This dispatch
is not in the war records. But it seems that Lee
changed his mind and, at 7.30 A.M. on the twenty-eighth,
in a second letter repeated the substance
of what he wrote Ewell "last night", and directed
him that, if he had not already started, he move
south with his trains, but east of South Mountain.
It is clear that Ewell's destination was Cashtown
- a village at the eastern base of the mountain -
eight miles west of Gettysburg. Discretion was
given to him as to the roads he should travel.
Ewell's and Early's reports say that Cashtown was
the appointed rendezvous; Lee's that it was
Gettysburg. Cashtown was occupied on June
28 by a part of Heth's division. In the next two
days Hill moved with two divisions to that point.
Ewell had detached Early's division to make a
demonstration towards the Susquehanna. On
the way Gordon's brigade spent a night at Gettysburg,
but it moved on and joined Early at York.
If Gettysburg had been Lee's objective, he would
have held it when he had it.
Lee's report says that on the night of June 28 a
spy came in and informed him that Hooker was
following him. The news, the report says, was a
surprise; that he had thought Hooker's army was
in Virginia, that he had expected Stuart to give
him notice when Hooker crossed the Potomac;
and that he abandoned a campaign he had planned
against Harrisburg, recalled Ewell, and ordered
his army to concentrate at Gettysburg. As he
had uninterrupted communication with the Potomac,
Lee knew that the Union army must be
east of the mountain.
We accept as of poetical origin the legends of
prehistoric Rome, which Livy transmitted; but
it is as easy to believe the story of the rape of the
Sabines, or that Horatius stood alone on the bridge
over the Tiber against the army of the Gauls, as
that Lee planned a campaign into Pennsylvania
on the theory that his army could march to Harrisburg
and Hooker's army would stay on the Potomac.
If Lee had not known, when he was in
Maryland, that Hooker was still on his front, he
would have marched directly to Washington. If
his statement be true that the news brought by a
spy arrested a campaign he had planned to
Harrisburg, such an anticlimax would make the
campaign a subject for a comic opera.
On the night of the 28th of June I was directed by
General Lee to order General Ewell to move directly
upon Harrisburg, and to inform him that General
Longstreet would move the next morning (the 29th) to
his support. General A. P. Hill was directed to move
eastward to the Susquehanna, and crossing the river
below Harrisburg, seize the railroad between Harper's
Ferry and Philadelphia; it being supposed that such
a movement would divert all reinforcements that
otherwise might be coming to General Hooker to the
defense of that city; and that there would be such
alarm created by their movement that the Federal
Government would be obliged to withdraw its army
from Virginia and abandon any plan it might have for
attack upon Richmond. I sent the orders about 10
o'clock at night to General Ewell and General Hill
and had just returned to my tent when I was sent for
by the Commanding General. I went to his tent and
found him sitting with a man in citizen's dress, who,
General Lee informed me, was a scout of General
Longstreet's who had just been brought to him. He told
me that this scout had left the neighborhood of Frederick
that morning and had brought information that
the Federal army had crossed the Potomac, moving
northward; and that the advance had reached Frederick
and was moving westward towards the Mountains.
The scout also informed General Lee that
General Meade was then in command of the army;
and also as to the movements of the enemy, which was
the first information General Lee had received since
he left Virginia. . . . While making this march the
only information he possessed led him to believe that
the army of the enemy was moving westward from
Frederick to throw itself upon his line of communications
with Virginia; and the object was, as I have
stated, simply to arrest this supposed plan on the east
side of the mountain. . . . By reason of the absence
of the cavalry his own army, marching eastward from
Chambersburg and southward from Carlisle, came
unexpectedly on the Federal advance on the first day of
July.
thought that Hooker's army was still holding
the Gaps in Maryland, and had not heard that it
had been withdrawn to Frederick. Lee does not
appear to have been uneasy about his communications.
Instead of ordering Ewell to proceed to
Harrisburg, he directed him to return to Cashtown.
It is inconceivable that he could have
ordered A. P. Hill to cross the Susquehanna and
threaten Philadelphia, and at the same time should
have ordered Early, at York, to come back to the
Cumberland Valley. They would have passed
each other marching in opposite directions. If
the 7.30 A.M. letter should have been dated the
twenty-ninth, as has been suggested, then neither
of Lee's letters to Ewell could have reached him
at Carlisle, as he would have left there before
they arrived. Lee had written to Mr. Davis
that he would have to abandon his communications;
but if Hooker had moved west to intercept
them, I am sure that General Lee would have
imitated Napoleon at Austerlitz and marched to
Washington.
Lee's report on the Gettysburg campaign was
published immediately and made a deep and
almost indelible impression. It is really a lawyer's
brief and shows the skill of the advocate in
the art of suppression and suggestion. Stuart's
report, dated August 20, 1863, is a respectful
answer, but it was buried in the confederate
archives. General Lee made a more elaborate
report, in January, 1864, which repeated the
implications of the first in regard to the cavalry,
but contradicted what it said about his orders for
the concentration at Gettysburg. Of course, he
knew his own orders as well in July as in January.
Now the essence of the complaint against Stuart
is that the cavalry - the eyes of an army - were
improperly absent; that the Confederate army
was ordered by Lee to Gettysburg, and, Colonel
Marshall and Lee's Assistant Adjutant General,
Colonel Walter Taylor, said, and the report
implies, ran unexpectedly against the enemy.
But the charge falls to the ground when Lee's
second report admits that the army was not
ordered to Gettysburg, and that the force that
went there was only making a reconnaissance.
However, the report does not say that there was
any order for a reconnaissance, or any necessity
for making one. Neither does it explain why
Hill did not come back to Cashtown, nor why
Lee followed him to Gettysburg. Hill's report
says that on the thirtieth he sent a dispatch to
General Lee, telling him that the enemy held
Gettysburg. A collision, then, could not be
unexpected - if he went there. If, as Lee's report
says, the spy brought news on the twenty-eighth
that the Union army was at Frederick, it could not
have been expected to stand still; nor a surprise
to learn that it was moving north.
But there is even less color to the truth or justice
in the complaint, when it is known that the
story that a spy diverted the army from Harrisburg
is a fable, and that Hill and Heth went off
without orders and without Lee's knowledge on a
raid and precipitated a battle. There is a satisfactory
explanation for Stuart's absence that day,
but a man who has to make an explanation is
always at a disadvantage.
Colonel Taylor does not seem to have known
where Lee's headquarters were on the morning of
July 1, for he said that A. P. Hill had a conference
at Cashtown with General Lee before he started.
If so, Lee was responsible for the blunder. Hill's
and Heth's reports say that they left Cashtown at
5 A.M., and soon ran against the enemy. Lee's
headquarters were then ten miles distant west of
the mountain at Greenwood. There was no long
distance 'phone over which he might talk with
Hill. That morning Lee wrote to Imboden, in
his rear, and said, "My headquarters for the
present will be at Cashtown, east of the mountain."
This letter is copied in his dispatch book
in the handwriting of Colonel Marshall, who
wrote Lee's report which states that Lee at
Chambersburg, after the spy came in, ordered
the army to Gettysburg and was unprepared for
battle when the armies met, placing the blame on
Stuart. Yet this dispatch shows that on the
morning of July 1 the army had not been ordered
to Gettysburg. Lee would not have had his
headquarters at one place and his army eight miles
off at another. Lee started during the day for
Cashtown, as he told Imboden he would, and,
when crossing the mountain, was surprised to hear
the ominous sound of battle. He passed through
Cashtown at full speed and never saw the place
again. His surprise was not at the enemy being
at Gettysburg, but that a part of his army was
there. It is remarkable that Colonel Taylor,
who was in close relations with General Lee,
did not even mention a projected movement to
Harrisburg that was arrested by a spy.
Lee's report omits all reference to Ewell's
march in advance of the army to the Susquehanna
and the order to Stuart to leave the army in Virginia
and join him. As it complains that by the
route he chose around the Union army communication
with him was broken, it is natural to conclude
from this statement. that Stuart disobeyed
orders to keep in communication with Lee. The
report speaks of Ewell's entering Maryland and
says that Longstreet and Hill followed and that the
columns were reunited at Hagerstown. The inference
is that the three corps united at that place
and that Stuart was directed to join them in
Maryland. The fact is that Ewell was then some
days in advance in Pennsylvania and that the
three corps united on the field of Gettysburg.
Stuart, says the report, was left to guard the
passes, observe the movements of the enemy,
and harass and impede him if he attempted to
cross the Potomac. "In that event (Hooker's
crossing) he was directed to move into Maryland,
crossing the Potomac east or west of the Blue
Ridge, as in his judgment should be best, and take
position on the right of our column as it advanced."
Stuart's crossing the Potomac did not depend
on Hooker's crossing, and he had no such
instructions. Lee's orders to Stuart, which I repeat,
were, "In either case after crossing the river
(whether you go by the eastern or western route)
you must move on and feel the right of Ewell's
troops, collecting information, provisions, etc."
The report states a part of the truth in saying
that Stuart had the discretion to cross the Potomac
east or west of the Blue Ridge, but it omits
the whole truth and that he also had authority to
pass by the enemy's rear. That was the only
route he could go if he crossed east of the Ridge.
As the report complains of the Union army being
interposed and preventing communication with
him by the route he went, the inference is that
Stuart violated orders in passing by the enemy's
rear. Stuart had no orders, as stated in the report,
about guarding the Gaps, impeding the enemy,
and reporting his movements, nor to watch Hooker
in Virginia and forage for Ewell on the Susquehanna.
Such an expectation implies a belief that
Stuart possessed a supernatural genius.
The report speaks of Stuart's efforts to impede
the progress of the Northern army. He made
no such efforts - he had no such orders - it
impeded him. The report makes no mention of
the use that Lee and Longstreet made of the two
cavalry brigades which Stuart left with them.
They must have done their duty, for there was no
complaint that they did not.
To return to Lee at Chambersburg. On the
night of the twenty-seventh he had written to
Ewell at Carlisle that Hooker had crossed the
Potomac and was in the Middletown Valley at
the east end of the Gaps, and directed him to
return to Chambersburg. It was time to
concentrate the army. But Lee changed his mind,
and, at 7.30 A.M. on the twenty-eighth he again
wrote Ewell, repeating what he had told him in
the "last night" letter about Hooker, but directed
him to move south by the pike and east of the
mountain He did not mention Meade, who had
not then been placed in command. The letter is
indefinite as to the point of concentration - that
was evidently a precaution in the event of its
capture. Such an important dispatch would be
sent by a staff officer so that he might explain
it orally, and, as they were in the enemy's
country, he would have a cavalry escort. Ewell
sent a copy of this dispatch, by a staff officer,
to Early, thirty-six miles away at York. It
could not have been written after the night of the
twenty-seventh. Early said that he received it
on the evening of the twenty-ninth and started
the next morning to unite with Ewell west of the
mountain, but during the day he met a courier
with a dispatch from Ewell, informing him of the
change of destination. This statement proves
that Ewell at Carlisle received two letters from
Lee. Although he sent a copy of Lee's first order
to Early, in his report Ewell only referred to the
second order under which he marched with Rodes's
division for Cashtown. Edward Johnson's division
left Carlisle for Chambersburg on the morning
of the twenty-ninth, before the second order
arrived, and marched to Green Village - twenty
miles - that day.
Lee's dispatch of the night of the twenty-seventh
could not have reached Carlisle before
the evening of the twenty-eighth. If it had been
written on the night of the twenty-eighth, it could
not have reached Ewell before he got to Harrisburg.
The trains probably started back that
night before Edward Johnson left, as they were
passing Chambersburg at midnight on the twenty-ninth.
They probably halted in the heat of the
day as was the custom, to rest and feed the
animals. Lee directed Ewell, if he received the
second order in time, to move south with the
trains by the eastern route. So it is clear that
Early's and Johnson's divisions marched in
accordance with the order of the twenty-seventh,
which Ewell did not mention.
Early said he met Ewell that evening (June
30) with Rodes's division near Heidlersburg.
Rodes told him that Cashtown was to be the point
of concentration and that he was to march there
the next morning. On July 1 Ewell had started,
with Rodes's and Early's divisions, on the road
to Cashtown, when he received a note from Hill
that turned him off to Gettysburg. Ewell left
Carlisle with Rodes's division on the thirtieth,
after he had received Lee's second letter changing
his destination Ewell said, "I was starting on the
twenty-ninth for that place (Harrisburg) when
ordered by the General Commanding to join the
main body at Cashtown, near Gettysburg."
Although two of his divisions marched under the first
order, Ewell's report speaks only of the second
order. He is clearly inaccurate in saying that the
second order to move south to Cashtown was the
cause of his halting at Carlisle. He had already
been halted by the first order. On this lapse of the
pen is based the quibble that the date (June 27) of
Lee's letter to Ewell is wrong, and Edward Johnson's
division had started back to Chambersburg.
The time of the marching of Ewell's three divisions
accords with the dates of the two letters, and
proves that before the spy is alleged to have
appeared - the night of the twenty-eighth -
Lee had sent orders to Ewell to return to
Chambersburg, and that he afterwards directed
him to Cashtown. In these letters he told Ewell
where Hooker's, not Meade's, army was. Again,
Lee's report says that as the spy had informed him
on the night of the twenty-eighth that the head of
Hooker's column had reached the South Mountain,
which was a menace to his communications,
he resolved to concentrate at Gettysburg, east of
the mountain, to prevent his further progress
and that he issued orders accordingly.
But Lee, on the night of the twenty-seventh
and morning of the twenty-eighth, had directed
the army to return. As he ordered Ewell back
to Chambersburg on the night of the twenty-seventh
and then to Cashtown on the morning
of the twenty-eighth, the statement that
he was preparing to move on to Harrisburg
when the spy came in on the night of the twenty-eighth
and brought news that Hooker was in
pursuit cannot stand the test of reason. If the
order to Ewell to return had been issued after the
spy is alleged to have come in, it would not have
overtaken Ewell before he got to Harrisburg. Nor
could the order to concentrate at Cashtown have
been the consequence of news brought by the
alleged spy, as it had been issued before it is said
that the spy came. If Gettysburg had been
Lee's objective, he could easily have occupied
it on the twenty-ninth, before Meade left Frederick.
As Lee's Chambersburg letter contradicts
his report, his biographers did not mention it.
Lee's second report speaks of two cavalry
brigades being in Virginia to guard the Gaps, and
says that as soon as it was known that the enemy
was in Maryland, orders were sent them to join
the army. They were not put there to guard the
Gaps, for the Gaps did not need a guard. Their
instructions were to watch and report the movements
of the enemy to General Lee and to follow
on the flank of the army when the enemy moved
from their front. On the night of June 27
Hooker's rear guard crossed the river, and on the
twenty-ninth the two cavalry brigades crossed
the Blue Ridge and arrived at Chambersburg
on the night of July 2. If an order was sent for
them after the spy came in, as the report says, it
could not have reached them on the twenty-ninth
in Loudoun County, Virginia, before they started.
They marched in accordance with Stuart's orders.
The allegation is that the Confederate army
was surprised at Gettysburg on account of the
absence of the cavalry. The gist of the complaint
is that Gettysburg was Lee's objective, as his
first report says; that the leading divisions of
Hill's corps ran unexpectedly against the enemy
there; and that he had to fight a battle under
duress to save his trains. The trains were then
in the Cashtown Pass, and Longstreet's corps
and Imboden's command were at the western
end of it, while Lee, with two corps, was at the
other end. Now the party surprised is, as a rule
the party attacked. But in the three days'
fighting around Gettysburg, Lee's army was the
assailant all the time and got the better of it on
the first and second days. If Lee had selected
Gettysburg as a battleground, it is strange that he
should apologize for fighting there. General Lee
was surprised by A. P. Hill - not by the enemy.
It is a curious thing that Lee's report should have
shielded A. P. Hill and Heth, who broke up his
plan of campaign. It is not claimed that Lee
needed cavalry in the battle, but before the battle,
to bring him intelligence. How he suffered in
this respect his report does not indicate, but it
says that the spy told him where the enemy were
on the night of the twenty-eighth when Meade's
army was fifty miles away at Frederick. If this
was the case, Lee had ample time to concentrate
at Gettysburg. If he had this information, it is
immaterial how he got it. Nobody can show that
Lee did anything or left anything undone for want
of information that cavalry could have given him.
Stuart was absent from the battlefield on the
first day because he was away doing his duty
under orders, and two divisions of Meade's cavalry
were in pursuit of him. Lee and Longstreet were
absent from the field on that day because they
did not expect a battle at Gettysburg, and did
not have foreknowledge of what Hill and Heth
were going to do. While the spy that is alleged
to have appeared on the stage at night and to have
changed the program of invasion is an invention
for dramatic effect, a spy did appear in a commonplace
way two days afterwards, when the army was
on the march to Cashtown. He brought interesting
but unimportant news.
June 30th, Tuesday. . . . We marched from
Chambersburg six miles on the road toward Gettysburg.
In the evening General Longstreet told me
that he had just received intelligence that Hooker had
been disrated and Meade was appointed in his place.
Marshall said that the spy appeared at headquarters
on the night of the twenty-eighth and
told of the change of commanders, and he also
said how much surprised Lee was to hear that
Hooker had crossed the Potomac, and that he
spoke of returning to Virginia. Now it is
between fifty and sixty miles from Frederick City,
where Meade took command of the army on the
afternoon of that day (June 28), to Chambersburg.
The order for the change was kept a
secret until it was published that evening. Every
road, path, and gap was closely picketed. The
spirit in "Manfred" that rode on the wind and
left the hurricane behind might have made the
trip in that time, but no mortal could have done
it. In this use of a spy, the author of the report
imitated a Greek dramatist who brought down a
god from the clouds to assist in the catastrophe
of his tragedies.
Lee's report says that the spy informed him
that the Union army had reached South Mountain.
It was there when Lee was in Maryland. But if
the spy had just come out of Hooker's lines, as
Marshall said, and told of the change in
commanders, he would also have told that the army
had been withdrawn from the mountain on the
twenty-seventh and had marched east to
Frederick City. Lee's letter to Ewell speaks of Hooker's
army, which shows that he had not heard of any
change of commanders when it was written -
and there had not been - and he does not mention
Meade. The tale of the spy must take its
place with Banquo's ghost and other theatrical
fictions.
dismounted and checked Heth until Reynolds
arrived. Reynolds had left his camp early that
morning for Gettysburg before Meade's order
had come to retire to Pipe Creek. Heth's report reads:
It may not be improper to remark that at this time -
nine o'clock on the morning of July 1st - I was ignorant
what force was at or near Gettysburg, and supposed
it consisted of cavalry, most probably supported
by a brigade or two of infantry. . . . Archer and
Davis were now directed to advance, the object being
to feel the enemy, to make a forced reconnaissance
and determine in what force they were - whether or
not he was massing his forces on Gettysburg. Heavy
columns of the enemy were soon encountered. . . .
General Davis was unable to hold his position.
Run. Hill said that his division was so exhausted
that it could not join in pursuit of the enemy.
Yet he called the affair, which had lasted nearly a
whole day, a reconnaissance just to conceal his blunder.
After the war, Heth published an article in
which he said nothing about their making a
reconnaissance, but that they went for shoes. He
claimed that he and Hill were surprised and said
it was on account of the want of cavalry, yet both
said they knew the enemy was there. The want
of cavalry might have been a good reason for
not going there - it was a poor one for going.
Heth did not pretend that he and Hill had orders
to go to Gettysburg, nor was there any necessity
for their going. All that the army had to do was
to live on the country and wait for the enemy at
Cashtown Pass - as Lee intended to do.
The truth is that General Lee was so compromised
by his corps commanders that he stayed
on the field and fought the battle on a point of
honor. To withdraw would have had the appearance
of defeat and have given the moral effect of
a victory to the enemy. A shallow criticism has
objected that Lee repeated Hooker's operation
with his cavalry at Chancellorsville. Both Lee
and Hooker did right; both retained sufficient
cavalry with the main body for observation and
outpost duty. The difference in the conditions
was that Lee sent Stuart to join Ewell, and the
damage he would do on the way would be simply
incidental to the march. Hooker's object in
detaching his cavalry, on the other hand, was to
destroy Lee's supplies and communications. With
his superior numbers Hooker had a right to
calculate on defeating Lee, and, in that event, his
cavalry would bar Lee's retreat as Grant's did at
Appomattox.
That the inventions of the staff officers have
been accepted by historians as true is the most
remarkable thing in literary history since the
Chatterton forgeries. But the history of the
world is a record of judgments reversed.
I have told in brief the story of Gettysburg, of
the way in which defeat befell the great
Confederate commander, and have criticised the
report which has his signature, but which it is
well known was written by another. It does as
great injustice to Lee as to Stuart. Lee may
have had so much confidence in the writer that
he signed it without reading it, or, if it was read
to him, he was in the mental condition of the dying
gladiator in the Coliseum - his mind
"Was
with his heart, and that was far away."
Stuart was a genial man of gay spirits and energetic
habits, popular with his men and trusted by his
superiors as no other officer in the Confederate army.
His authority was exercised mildly but firmly; no
man in the South was better qualified to mould the
wild element he controlled into soldiers. His raids
made him a lasting name and his daring exploits will
ever find a record alongside the deeds of the most
famous cavalry leaders. He was mortally wounded in
an encounter with Sheridan's cavalry at Yellow Tavern,
May, 1864, and died a few days afterward.
"And
these are deeds which should not pass away
may be truthfully applied, as well as in
considerable writing and publication on the subject.
The account given in these pages was his
final work and seems to answer all criticisms which
have been aimed at his conclusions. The following
letter to Mrs. Stuart explains, in a measure,
some of his work on the Gettysburg campaign
and the discussions which followed.]
Washington, D.C.,
Mrs. General J. E. B. Stuart:
I have received your
letter in reply to mine inquiring
if you had any unpublished correspondence left by
General Stuart which I might use in my Memoirs of
the war which I am preparing. I return McClellan's
letter which is dated March 22nd, 1899.
1 He claims
credit for having first published, in reply to Colonel
Marshall, General Lee's and Longstreet's orders to
General Stuart which authorized him to go the route
in rear of Hooker's army in the Gettysburg campaign.
Governor Stuart and you know that this is not true.
. . . In the winter of 1886-87 I was in Washington
settling my accounts as Consul at Hong Kong. Longstreet
about that time had an article in the Century
charging General Stuart with disobedience of orders;
and Long's "Memoirs of Lee" also appeared about the
same time with a similar charge. As I knew the inside
history of the transaction and that the charge was
false, I went to the office where the Confederate
archives were kept and got permission to examine them.
The three volumes of the Gettysburg records had not
then been published. Colonel Scott gave me a large
envelope that had the reports and correspondence of
the campaign on printed slips. Very soon I discovered
Lee's and Longstreet's instructions to Stuart to do the
very thing that he did. I was delighted and so
expressed myself to Colonel Scott. He was surprised
that McClellan had made no use of them and told me
that McClellan had spent several days in his office
and that he had given him the same envelope and
papers that he had given me. I told Mr. Henry Stuart,
whom I met at the National Hotel, all about my
discovery and that I should reply to Longstreet and
publish this evidence to contradict him and Long. I also
wrote to Mr. Wm. A. Stuart and to McClellan of my
discovery and told them that I should reply to Longstreet.
Mr. Stuart advised me to publish what I had
discovered. These documents with a communication
from me appeared in the Century about May or June,
1887. See "Battles and Leaders." . . . In 1896
Colonel Charles Marshall delivered a violent philippic
on General Lee's birthday against General Stuart. He
imputed to Stuart's disobedience all the blame for the
Gettysburg disaster. I replied to Marshall's attack
in a syndicated article which was published in Richmond
and Boston and again published Lee's and
Longstreet's instructions to Stuart. With this article
I also published for the first time Lee's letter to Ewell
written from Chambersburg on June 28th, 1863
which exploded the mythical story of the spy on which
Marshall had built his fabric of fiction. Some time
after my article appeared, in reply to Marshall,
McClellan also published a reply to him with the
documents which I had published nine years before in the
Century. . . . But McClellan, like Lee's biographers,
was silent about the Chambersburg letter. That it
contradicts Lee's report, which Marshall wrote, is
admitted by Stuart's critics; but to avoid the effect
of it they say the date in the records is wrong. The
only evidence they produce is that the report written
a month afterward is not consistent with the letter.
That was the reason I published the letter. But I
have demonstrated that the time that a copy of it
was received by Early from Ewell and the marching of
Ewell's divisions in accordance with it confirm the
correctness of the date. McClellan says that Marshall
had not dared to answer him; and I can say that
although I was the first to attack him he never dared
to answer me. He also speaks of John C. Ropes, of
Boston, having written him that his answer was
conclusive. But Mr. Ropes had read my article in the
Boston Herald and had written me the same thing a
month before McClellan's appeared. Some years
before I had read a review by Ropes of McClellan's
"Life of Stuart", in which he seemed to be very friendly
to Stuart, but he said that McClellan had made a very
unsatisfactory defense of him on the Gettysburg campaign.
I then wrote to Ropes and sent him Belford's
Magazine (October-November, 1891) with an article
of mine that had Stuart's orders from Lee and Longstreet.
Ropes wrote me that my article had changed
his opinion, and that in the next volume of his history
his views would conform to mine. Unfortunately he
died before the volume was finished. So you see how
unfounded McClellan's claim of precedence is. His
book, as I told Mr. Henry Stuart nearly thirty years
ago, does General Stuart great injustice. It deprives
him of the credit of the ride around McClellan - I
heard Fitz Lee urge General Stuart not to go on - it
defends Fitz Lee against the just criticism of Stuart's
report for his disobedience of orders that saved Pope's
army from ruin and came near getting Stuart and
myself captured; and it represents the great cavalry
combat and victory at Brandy as "a successful
reconnaissance" by Pleasanton, which means that he
voluntarily recrossed the Rappahannock after he had
accomplished his object and not because he was defeated. . . .
Very truly yours,
Unlike the usual formal report of the War Records,
these records are permeated by the zeal and
enthusiasm for his partisan warfare to which was
due, in large measure, Mosby's striking success.
The spirit of the man, his boundless energy, and
the unbridled zest with which he made war on
his country's foes are reflected in every line of
his official story.]
July, 1863.
I sent you in charge of
Sergeant Beattie, one hundred
and forty-one prisoners that we captured from
the enemy during their march through this county.
I also sent off forty-five several days ago. Included in
the number, one Major, one Captain and two lieutenants.
I also captured one hundred and twenty-five
horses and mules, twelve wagons (only three of which
I was able to destroy), fifty sets of fine harness, arms,
etc., etc.
Fauquier Co., Va., Aug. 4, 1863.
I send over in charge
of Sergeant Beattie about 30
prisoners captured on an expedition into Fairfax, from
which I have just returned. Most of them were taken
at Padgett's, near Alexandria. I also captured about
30 wagons, brought off about 70 horses and mules,
having only ten men with me. We lost a good many
on the way back, as we were compelled to travel narrow
unfrequented paths. Among the captures were three
sutlers' wagons.
At Fairfax Court House a few nights ago I captured
29 loaded sutlers' wagons, about 100 prisoners and 140
horses. I had brought all off safely near Aldie, where
I fell in with a large force of the enemy's cavalry, who
recaptured them. The enemy had several hundred.
I had only 27 men. We killed and captured several.
My loss: one wounded and captured.
Culpeper, August 20, 1863.
On Tuesday, August 11,
I captured a train of 19
wagons near Annandale, in Fairfax County. We
secured the teams and a considerable portion of the
most valuable stores, consisting of saddles, bridles,
harness, etc. We took about 25 prisoners.
Sept. 30, 1863.
. . . On the morning of
August 24, with about 30
men, I reached a point (Annandale) immediately on
the enemy's line of communication. Leaving the
whole command, except three men who accompanied
me, in the woods, concealed, I proceeded on a
reconnaissance along the railroad to ascertain if there were
any bridges unguarded. I discovered there were three.
I returned to the command just as a drove of horses
with a cavalry escort of about 50 men were passing.
These I determined to attack and to wait until night
to burn the bridges. I ordered Lieutenant Turner to
take half of the men and charge them in front, while
with the remainder I attacked their rear.
In the meantime the enemy had been joined by
another party, making their number about 63. When
I overtook them they had dismounted at Gooding's
Tavern to water their horses. My men went at them
with a yell that terrified the Yankees and scattered
them in all directions. A few taking shelter under
cover of the houses, opened fire upon us. They were
soon silenced, however. At the very moment when I
had succeeded in routing them, I was compelled to
retire from the fight, having been shot through the
side and thigh. My men, not understanding it,
followed me, which gave time to the Yankees to escape
to the woods. But for this accident, the whole party
would have been captured. As soon as I perceived
this, I ordered the men to go back, which a portion of
them did, just as Lieutenant Turner, who had met and
routed another force above, came gallantly charging up.
Over 100 horses fell into our possession, though a
good many were lost in bringing them out at night;
also 12 prisoners, arms, etc. I learn that 6 of the
enemy were killed. . . . In this affair my loss was
2 killed and 3 wounded. . . .
I afterwards directed Lieutenant Turner to burn the
bridges. He succeeded in burning one.
During my absence from the command, Lieutenant
Turner attacked an outpost of the enemy near
Waterloo, killing 2 and capturing 4 men and 27 horses.
About September 15 he captured 3 wagons, 20
horses, 7 prisoners and a large amount of sutlers'
goods near Warrenton Junction.
On the 20th and 21st instant, I conducted an expedition
along the enemy's line of communication, in which
important information obtained was forwarded to the
army headquarters, and I succeeded in capturing 9
prisoners and 21 fine horses and mules.
On the 27th and 28th instant, I made a reconnaissance
in the vicinity of Alexandria, capturing Colonel
Dulaney, aide to the bogus Governor Pierpont, several
horses, and burning the railroad bridge across Cameron's
Run, which was immediately under cover of
the guns of two forts.
The military value of the species of warfare I have
waged is not measured by the number of prisoners and
material of war captured from the enemy, but by the
heavy detail it has already compelled him to make,
and which I hope to make him increase, in order to
guard his communications and to that extent diminishing
his aggressive strength.
Headquarters Cavalry Corps, October 5, 1863.
Respectfully forwarded,
and recommend that Major
Mosby be promoted another grade in recognition of his
valuable services. The capture of these prominent
Union officials, as well as the destruction of bridges,
trains, etc., was the subject of special instructions
which he is faithfully carrying out.
J. E. B. Stuart, Major-General.
Headquarters, November 17, 1863.
Respectfully forwarded.
R. E. Lee, General.
Fauquier Co.,
My dearest Pauline:
the interview between Colonel Dulaney and his son.
Just as we were about leaving the Colonel sarcastically
remarked to his son that he had an old pair of
shoes he had better take, as he reckoned they were
darned scarce in the Confederacy, whereupon the son,
holding up his leg, which was encased in a fine pair of
cavalry boots just captured from a sutler, asked the
old man what he thought of that. I am now fixing
my triggers for several good things which, if they
succeed, will make a noise. Old Mrs. Shacklett is
going to Baltimore next week and I shall send for some
things for you all. . . . In Richmond I got some
torpedoes, which have just arrived, and my next trip
I shall try to blow up a railroad train. Went to see
the Secretary of War, - he spoke in the highest terms
of the services of my command, - said he read all my
official reports. Also saw old General Lee, - he was
very kind to me and expressed the greatest satisfaction
at the conduct of my command.
October 19, 1863.
. . . On Thursday,
15th, came down into Fairfax,
where I have been operating ever since in the
enemy's rear.
I have captured over 100 horses and mules, several
wagons loaded with valuable stores, and between 75
and 100 prisoners, arms, equipments, etc. Among the
prisoners were 3 captains and 1 lieutenant.
I had a sharp skirmish yesterday with double my
number of cavalry near Annandale in which I routed
them, capturing the captain commanding and 6 or 7
men and horses. I have so far sustained no loss. It
has been my object to detain the troops that are
occupying Fairfax, by annoying their communications and
preventing them from operating in front. . . . I
contemplate attacking a cavalry camp at Falls Church
to-morrow night.
Nov. 6, 1863.
I returned yesterday
from a scout in the neighborhood
of Catlett's. I was accompanied by Captain
Smith and 2 men of my command. We killed Kilpatrick's
division commissary and captured an adjutant,
4 men, 6 horses, etc. Kilpatrick's Division (now
reported unfit for duty) lies around Weaverville.
. . . I sent you 4 cavalrymen on Wednesday captured
by my scouts.
Nov. 22, 1863.
Since rendering my
report of the 5th [sic] inst. we
have captured about 75 of the enemy's cavalry, over
100 horses and mules, 6 wagons, a considerable number
of arms, equipments, etc.
It would be too tedious to mention in detail the
various affairs in which these captures have been
made, but I would omit the performance of a pleasant
duty if I failed to bring to your notice the bold
onset of Capt. Smith, when, with only about 40 men,
he dashed into the enemy's camp of 150 cavalry near
Warrenton, killed some 8 or 10, wounded a number
and brought off 9 prisoners, 27 horses, arms, equipments,
etc. In various other affairs several of the
enemy have been killed and wounded. I have
sustained no loss. . . .
January 4, 1864.
I have the honor to
report that during the month of
December there were captured by this command over
100 horses and mules and about 100 prisoners. A
considerable number of the enemy have also been
killed and wounded. It would be too tedious to mention
the various occasions on which we have met the
enemy, but there is one which justice to a brave officer
demands to be noticed. On the morning of January 1,
I received information that a body of the enemy's
cavalry were in Upperville. It being the day on which
my command was to assemble, I directed Capt. William
R. Smith to take command of the men while I
went directly toward Upperville to ascertain the movements
of the enemy. In the meantime the enemy had
gone on toward Rectortown, and I pursued, but came
up just as Capt. Smith with about 35 men had attacked
and routed them (75 strong), killing, wounding, and
capturing 57.
Headquarters Cavalry Corps, February 13, 1864.
Respectfully forwarded.
J. E. B. Stuart,
February 15, 1864.
A characteristic report
from Colonel Mosby, who
has become so familiar with brave deeds as to consider
them too tedious to treat unless when necessary to
reflect glory on his gallant comrades. Captain Smith's
was a brilliant and most successful affair.
J. A. Seddon, Secretary of War.
February 1, 1864.
On Wednesday, January
6, having previously
reconnoitered in person the position of the enemy, I
directed Lieutenant Turner, with a detachment of
about 30 men, to attack an outpost of the enemy in
the vicinity of Warrenton, which he did successfully,
routing a superior force of the enemy, killing and
wounding several, and capturing 18 prisoners and 42
horses, with arms, equipments, etc.
On Saturday, January 9, having learned through
Frank Stringfellow (Stuart's scout), that Cole's
(Maryland) Cavalry was encamping on Loudon Heights,
with no supports but infantry, which was about one-half
mile off, I left Upperville with about 100 men
in hopes of being able to completely surprise his camp
by a night attack. By marching my command by
file, along a narrow path, I succeeded in gaining a
position in the rear of the enemy, between their camp
and the Ferry. On reaching this point, without
creating any alarm, I deemed that the crisis had
passed, and the capture of the enemy a certainty. I
had exact information up to dark of that evening of
the number of the enemy (which was between 175 and
200), the position of their headquarters, etc. When
within 200 yards of the camp, I sent Stringfellow on
ahead with about 10 men to capture Major Cole and
staff, whose headquarters were in a house about 100
yards from their camp, while I halted to close up my
command. The camp was buried in a profound
sleep; there was not a sentinel awake. All my
plans were on the eve of consummation, when suddenly
the party sent with Stringfellow came dashing over
the hill toward the camp, yelling and shooting. They
had made no attempt to secure Cole. Mistaking them
for the enemy, I ordered my men to charge.
In the meantime the enemy had taken the alarm,
and received us with a volley from their carbines. A
severe fight ensued, in which they were driven from
their camp, but, taking refuge in the surrounding
houses, kept up a desultory firing. Confusion and
delay having ensued from the derangement of my
plans, consequent on the alarm given to the enemy,
rendered it hazardous to continue in my position, as
reinforcements were near the enemy. Accordingly, I
ordered the men to retire, which was done in good
order, bringing off 6 prisoners, and between 50 and
60 horses.
My loss was severe; more so in the worth than the
number of the slain. It was 4 killed, 7 wounded (of
whom 4 have since died), and 1 captured. A
published list of the enemy's loss gives it at 5 killed and
13 wounded. Among those who fell on this occasion
were Capt. William R. Smith and Lieutenant Turner,
two of the noblest and bravest officers of this army,
who thus sealed a life of devotion and of sacrifice to
the cause they loved.
In numerous other affairs with the enemy, between
75 and 100 horses and mules have been captured,
about 40 men killed, wounded, and captured. A
party of this command also threw one of the enemy's
trains off the track, causing a great smash up.
Headquarters Cavalry Corps,
Respectfully forwarded. February 9, 1864.
the vain effort to suppress his inroads. His exploits
are not surpassed in daring and enterprise by those of
petite guerre in any age. Unswerving devotion to
duty, self-abnegation, and unflinching courage, with
a quick perception and appreciation of the opportunity,
are the characteristics of this officer. Since I first
knew him, in 1861, he has never once alluded to his
own rank or promotion; thus far it has come by the
force of his own merit. While self-consciousness of
having done his duty well is the patriot soldier's best
reward, yet the evidence of the appreciation of his
country is a powerful incentive to renewed effort,
which should not be undervalued by those who have
risen to the highest point of military and civic eminence.
That evidence is promotion. If Major Mosby
has not won it, no more can daring deeds essay to do
it . . .
J. E. B. Stuart, Major-General.
with the rest when he espied Captain Reid
of the Californians. Von Massow made a rush
at Reid, as if he were about to chop his head off
with his sword - the Prussian clung to the sword
in a fight instead of using a revolver, as did the
rest of Mosby's men. Captain Reid was caught
so that he could not defend himself and made a
motion which the Baron interpreted as a sign of
surrender. The latter signed for Reid to go to
the rear and rode on into the mêlée. As he turned
his back Reid drew a revolver and shot him. At
almost the same instant Captain Chapman, who
had seen the incident and divined the Californian's
intention to shoot, drew his revolver and shot
Captain Reid. Reid was instantly killed, and Von
Massow was so seriously injured that he was never
able to rejoin Mosby's command.]
September 11, 1864.
On March 10th with a
detachment of about 40
men, I defeated a superior force of the enemy's cavalry
near Greenwich, severely wounding 3, and capturing
9 prisoners, 10 horses, arms, etc. On the same day
Lieut. A. E. Richards, with another detachment of
about 30 men, surprised an outpost of the enemy
near Charles Town, killed the major commanding and
a lieutenant, several privates, and brought off 21
prisoners with their horses, arms, etc. In neither
engagement did my command sustain any loss.
During the months of March and April but few
opportunities were offered for making any successful
attacks on the enemy, the continual annoyances to
which they had been subjected during the winter
causing them to exert great vigilance in guarding against
surprises and interruptions of their communications.
During most of these months I was myself engaged in
scouting in the enemy's rear for Major-General Stuart
and collecting information which was regularly transmitted
to his headquarters, concerning the movements,
numbers, and distribution of the enemy's forces both
east and west of the Blue Ridge. During this time my
men were mostly employed in collecting forage from
the country bordering on the Potomac.
About April 15, Captain Richards routed a marauding
party of the enemy's cavalry at Waterford, killing
and wounding 5 or 6 and bringing off 6 or 8 prisoners,
15 horses, arms, etc.
About April 25 I attacked an outpost near Hunter's
Mills, in Fairfax, capturing 5 prisoners and 18 horses.
The prisoners and horses were sent back under charge
of Lieutenant Hunter, while I went off on a scout in
another direction. The enemy pursued and captured
the lieutenant and 6 of the horses.
About May 1st, with a party of 10 men, I captured
8 of Sigel's wagons near Bunker Hill, in the Valley.
but was only able to bring off the horses attached (34
in number) and about 20 prisoners. The horses and
prisoners were sent back, while with another detachment
of 20 men who had joined me I proceeded to
Martinsburg, which place we entered that night, while
occupied by several hundred Federal troops, and
brought off 15 horses and several prisoners.
Returning to my command, I learned that General
Grant had crossed the Rapidan. With about 40 men
I moved down the north bank of the Rappahannock
to assail his communications wherever opened, and
sent two other detachments, under Captains Richards
and Chapman, to embarrass Sigel as much as possible.
Captain Richards had a skirmish near Winchester in
which several of them were killed and wounded.
Captain Chapman attacked a wagon train, which was
heavily guarded, near Strassburg, capturing about 30
prisoners with an equal number of horses, etc. Near
Belle Plain, in King George, I captured an ambulance
train and brought off about 75 horses and mules, and
40 prisoners, etc.
A few days after I made a second attempt near the
same place, but discovered that my late attack had
caused them to detach such a heavy force to guard
their trains and line of communication that another
successful attack on them was impracticable.
About May 10 I attacked a cavalry outpost in the
vicinity of Front Royal, capturing 1 captain and 15
men and 75 horses and sustained no loss.
About May 20, with about 150 men, I moved to
the vicinity of Strassburg with the view of capturing
the wagon trains of General Hunter, who had then
moved up the Valley. When the train appeared I
discovered that it was guarded by about 600 infantry
and 100 cavalry. A slight skirmish ensued between
their cavalry and a part of my command, in which
their cavalry was routed with a loss of 8 prisoners and
horses, besides several killed, but falling back on their
infantry, my men in turn fell back, with a loss of 1
killed. While we did not capture the train, one great
object had been accomplished - the detachment of
a heavy force to guard their communications. After
the above affair, only one wagon train ever went up
to Hunter, which was still more heavily guarded. He
then gave up his line of communication.
After the withdrawal of the enemy's forces from
Northern Virginia, for several weeks but few opportunities
were offered for any successful incursions upon
them. Many enterprises on a small scale were, however,
undertaken by detachments of the command,
of which no note has been taken.
About June 20 I moved into Fairfax and routed a
body of cavalry near Centreville, killing and wounding
6 or 8, and capturing 31 prisoners, securing their
horses, etc.
A few days afterwards we took Duffield's Depot,
on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad; secured about
50 prisoners, including 2 lieutenants and a large number
of stores. The train had passed a few minutes before
we reached the place. On my way there I had left
Lieutenant Nelson, commanding Company A, at
Charles Town, for the purpose of intercepting and
notifying me of any approach in my rear from Harper's
Ferry. As I had anticipated, a body of cavalry, largely
superior in numbers to his force, moved out from that
point. Lieutenant Nelson gallantly charged and
routed them, killing and wounding several and taking
19 prisoners and 27 horses. We sustained no loss on
this expedition.
On July 4, hearing of General Early's movement
down the Valley, I moved with my command east of
the Blue Ridge for the purpose of coöperating with him
and crossed the Potomac at Point of Rocks, driving
out the garrison (250 men, strongly fortified) and securing
several prisoners and horses. As I supposed it to
be General Early's intention to invest Maryland
Heights, I thought the best service I could render would
be to sever all communication both by railroad and
telegraph between that point and Washington, which
I did, keeping it suspended for two days.
As this was the first occasion on which I had used
artillery [sic] the magnitude of the invasion was
greatly exaggerated by the fears of the enemy, and
panic and alarm spread through their territory. I
desire especially to bring to the notice of the
commanding general the unsurpassed gallantry displayed
by Captain Richards, commanding First Squadron.
Our crossing was opposed by a body of infantry
stationed on the Maryland shore. Dismounting a
number of sharpshooters, whom I directed to wade the
river above the point held by the enemy, I superintended
in person the placing of my piece of artillery in
position at the same time directing Captain Richards
whenever the enemy had been dislodged by the
sharpshooters and artillery, to charge across the river in
order to effect their capture. The enemy were soon
routed and Captain Richards charged over, but before
he could overtake them they had retreated across
the canal, pulling up the bridge in their rear. My
order had not, of course, contemplated their pursuit
into their fortifications, but the destruction of the
bridge was no obstacle to his impetuous valor, and
hastily dismounting and throwing down a few planks
on the sills, he charged across, under a heavy fire from
a redoubt. The enemy fled panic stricken, leaving in
our possession their camp equipage, etc. . . .
On the morning of July 6, while still encamped near
the Potomac, information was received that a considerable
force of cavalry was at Leesburg. I immediately
hastened to meet them. At Leesburg I learned that
they had gone toward Aldie, and I accordingly moved
on the road to Ball's Mill in order to intercept them
returning to their camp in Fairfax, which I succeeded
in doing, meeting them at Mount Zion Church, and
completely routing them, with a loss of about 80 of
their officers and men left dead and severely wounded
on the field, besides 57 prisoners. Their loss includes a
captain and lieutenant killed and 1 lieutenant severely
wounded; the major commanding and 2 lieutenants
prisoners. We also secured all their horses, arms, etc.
My loss was 1 killed and 6 wounded - none dangerously.
After this affair the enemy never ventured, in two
months after, the experiment of another raid through
that portion of our district.
A few days afterward I again crossed the Potomac
in coöperation with General Early, and moved through
Poolesville, Md., for the purpose of capturing a body
of cavalry encamped near Seneca. They retreated,
however, before we reached there, leaving all their
camp equipage and a considerable amount of stores.
We also captured 30 head of beef cattle.
When General Early fell back from before Washington
I recrossed the Potomac, near Seneca, moving
thence to the Little River Pike in order to protect him
from any movement up the south side of the river.
The enemy moved through Leesburg in pursuit of
General Early and occupied Ashby's and Snicker's
Gaps. I distributed my command so as to most
effectually protect the country. These detachments
- under Captains Richards and Chapman and Lieutenants
Glasscock, Nelson, and Hatcher - while they
kept the enemy confined to the main thoroughfares
and restrained their ravages, killed and captured about
300, securing their horses, etc. My own attention
was principally directed to ascertaining the numbers
and movements of the enemy and forwarding the information
to General Early, who was then in the Valley.
At the time of the second invasion of Maryland by
General Early, I moved my command to the Potomac,
crossed over 3 companies at Cheek's and Noland's
Fords, while the remaining portion was kept in
reserve on this side with the artillery, which was posted
on the south bank to keep open the fords, keeping one
company, under Lieutenant Williams, near the ford,
on the north bank. Two were sent under Lieutenant
Nelson, to Adamstown, on the Baltimore and Ohio
Railroad, for the purpose of intercepting the trains
from Baltimore, destroying their communications,
etc. Apprehending a movement up the river from a
considerable body of cavalry which I knew to be
stationed below, I remained with a portion of the
command guarding the fords.
Lieutenant Nelson reached the road a few minutes
too late to capture the train, but destroyed two telegraph
lines. On his return he met a force of the
enemy's cavalry, near Monocacy, which was charged
and routed by the gallant Lieutenant Hatcher, who
took about 15 men and horses, besides killing and
wounding several.
We recrossed the river in the evening, bringing
about 75 horses and between 20 and 30 prisoners.
Our loss, 2 missing.
The story of the battle was well told in the
official report of Colonel Charles R. Lowell, Jr.,
Second Massachusetts Cavalry. The report reads :]
Near Falls Church, Va., July 8, 1864.
I have the honor to
report Major Forbes' scout as
completely as is yet possible. I have not talked with
Lieutenant Kuhls or Captain Stone, who is badly
wounded, but send what I learned on the ground.
Major Forbes left here with 150 men (100 Second
Massachusetts Cavalry, 50 Thirteenth New York
Cavalry) Monday, P.M. Tuesday, A.M., went through
Aldie, and found all quiet toward the Gaps. Tuesday,
P.M., went by Ball's Mill to Leesburg. Heard of
Mosby's raid at Point of Rocks, and learned that he
had sent four or five wagons of plunder through Leesburg,
under a guard of about 60 men, the afternoon
before. Heard nothing of any other force this side
of the ridge. He returned that night to the south of
Goose Creek, as directed, and, on Wednesday, A.M.,
went again by Ball's Mill to Leesburg. Still heard
nothing of Mosby or any force. From what I learned
from citizens, I think Mosby passed between Leesburg
and the Potomac some time on Tuesday, crossed Goose
Creek, and moved westward toward Aldie on Wednesday;
learned of Major Forbes' second visit to Leesburg,
and laid in ambush for him at Ball's Mill. Major
Forbes returned from Leesburg by Centre's Mill (4
miles above), came down by Aldie, and halted for two
or three hours about one and a half miles east, on the
Little River Pike; when Mosby learned this he moved
south and struck the pike about one and a quarter
miles east of the Major's position, being hidden till
he had reached about half a mile west on the pike.
Major Forbes was duly notified by his advance guard,
mounted his men, and moved them from the north to
the south of the pike. As the rear was crossing, Mosby
fired one shell from his 12-pounder, which burst entirely
too high. As Major Forbes formed on the south, his
advance guard, which had dismounted and fired as
Mosby came up, fell back, still keeping a little north of
the pike, and took an excellent position somewhat on
the flank. Up to this time, I think, all the dispositions
were admirable. Major Forbes' two squadrons were
formed, his third squadron and rear guard not formed
but nearly so, and no confusion. Mosby's men, who
were not in any order, but were down the road in a
"nick," had just reached the fence corner some 225
yards off, and a few had dismounted, under a fire from
the advanced guard, to take down the fence. When
two panels of the fence were down the men trotted
through for about 75 yards, and came gradually down
to a walk, and almost halted. Major Forbes' first
platoon was ordered to fire with carbines. Here was
the first mistake. It created confusion among the
horses, and the squadron in the rear added to it by
firing a few pistol shots. Had the order been given
to draw sabres and charge, the rebels would never have
got their gun off, but I think Major Forbes, seeing
how uneasy his horses were at the firing, must have
intended to dismount some of his men. At any rate,
he attempted to move the first squadron by the right
flank. The rebels saw their chance, gave a yell, and
our men, in the confusion of the moment, broke. The
two rear squadrons went off in confusion. Attempts
were made, with some success, to rally parts of the
first squadron in the next field, and again near Little
River Church, one mile off.
Captain Stone was wounded here, and I believe all
the non-commissioned officers of A and L Companies
present were wounded or killed. There was little
gained. I have only to report a perfect rout and a
chase for five to seven miles. We lost Major Forbes,
Lieutenant Amory, and Mr. Humphreys (Chaplain),
from Second Massachusetts, and Lieutenant Burns,
Thirteenth New York Cavalry, prisoners, all unhurt.
Captain Stone, Second Massachusetts, and Lieutenant
Schuyler, Thirteenth New York, very badly wounded.
Lieutenant Kuhls alone came safely to camp. Of
men, we lost, killed outright, 7, Second Massachusetts;
5, Thirteenth New York: wounded, we brought in
27 and left 10 too bad to move. I fear of the wounded
at least 12 will die. About 40 others have come to
camp half mounted, and Mosby reported to have 44
prisoners; quite a number, you will see, still unaccounted
for. Some of them are probably wounded,
and some still on their way to camp, and others will
be made prisoners.
Mosby went up toward Upperville with his prisoners
and his dead and wounded about midnight Wednesday.
I reached the ground about 11.30 A.M. and remained in
plain sight for about three hours; then searched
through all the woods and moved to Centreville, where
I again waited an hour in hopes some stragglers would
Join us. We only picked up half a dozen, however.
The soldiers and citizens all speak in high terms of
the gallantry of the officers; Major Forbes especially
remained in the first field till every man had left it,
emptied his revolver, and, in the second field, where
Company A tried to stand, he disabled one man with
his sabre, and lunged through Colonel Mosby's coat.
His horse was then killed and fell on his leg, pinning him
till he was compelled to surrender.
More than 100 horses were taken. Accoutrements,
arms, etc., will also be missing. I cannot yet give the
precise number.
Mosby's force is variously estimated at from 175 to
200, Mrs. Davis and her daughter putting it at 250 to
300 men. I think he had probably about 200. What
his loss is I cannot say, as he picked up all his dead and
wounded and took them off in the night. The Union
people in Aldie report that he took them in five wagons.
A wounded sergeant reports hearing the names of 3 or
4 spoken of as killed; one mortally wounded man was
left on the ground. [Mosby actually lost seven men
wounded. His force was about 175 men.] I think
the chance was an excellent one to whip Mosby and
take his gun. I have no doubt Major Forbes thought
so, too, as the wounded men say there was not enough
difference in numbers to talk about. The chance was lost.
During this campaign of 1864, my battalion
of six companies was the only force operating in
the rear of Sheridan's army in the Shenandoah
Valley. Our rendezvous was along the eastern
base of the Blue Ridge, in what is known as the
Piedmont region of Virginia. Fire and sword
could not drive the people of that neighborhood
from their allegiance to what they thought was
right, and in the gloom of disaster and defeat
they never wavered in their support of the
Confederate cause. The main object of my campaign
was to vex and embarrass Sheridan and, if possible,
to prevent his advance into the interior
of the State. But my exclusive attention was
not given to Sheridan, for alarm was kept up
continuously by threatening Washington and
occasionally crossing the Potomac. We lived
on the country where we operated and drew nothing
from Richmond except the gray jackets my
men wore. We were mounted, armed, and
equipped entirely off the enemy, but, as we
captured a great deal more than we could use,
the surplus was sent to supply Lee's army. The
mules we sent him furnished a large part of his
transportation, and the captured sabres and
carbines were turned over to his cavalry - we
had no use for them.
I believe I was the first cavalry commander
who discarded the sabre as useless and consigned
it to museums for the preservation of antiquities.
My men were as little impressed by a body of
cavalry charging them with sabres as though
they had been armed with cornstalks. In the
Napoleonic wars cavalry might sometimes ride
down infantry armed with muzzle-loaders and
flintlocks, because the infantry would be broken
by the momentum of the charge before more
than one effective fire could be delivered. At
Eylau the French cavalry rode over the Russians
in a snowstorm because the powder of the
infantry was wet and they were defenseless. Fixed
ammunition had not been invented. I think
that my command reached the highest point of
efficiency as cavalry because they were well armed
with two six-shooters and their charges combined
the effect of fire and shock. We were called
bushwhackers, as a term of reproach, simply
because our attacks were generally surprises,
and we had to make up by celerity for lack of
numbers. Now I never resented the epithet
of "bushwhacker" - although there was no soldier
to whom it applied less - because bushwhacking
is a legitimate form of war, and it is
just as fair and equally heroic to fire at an enemy
from behind a bush as a breastwork or from the
casemate of a fort.
The Union cavalry who met us in combat
knew that we always fought on the offensive
in a mounted charge and with a pair of Colt's
revolvers. I think we did more than any other
body of men to give the Colt pistol its great
reputation. A writer on the history of cavalry cites
as an example of the superiority of the revolver
a fight that a squadron of my command, under
Captain Dolly 1
Richards, had in the Shenandoah
Valley, in which more of the enemy were
killed than the entire total by sabre in the
Franco-Prussian War. But, to be effective,
the pistol must, of course, be used at close quarters.
As I have said, during this campaign our operations
were not confined to this valley. The
troops belonging to the defences of Washington
and guarding the line of the Potomac were a
portion of Sheridan's command. To prevent
his being reinforced from this source, I made
frequent attacks on the outposts in Fairfax and
demonstrations along the Potomac. The Eighth
Illinois Cavalry, the largest and regarded as the
finest regiment in the Army of the Potomac,
had been brought back to Washington, largely
recruited, and stationed at Seneca (or Muddy
Branch) on the river above Washington. There
were a number of other detachments of cavalry
on the Maryland side, and two regiments of
cavalry in Fairfax. General Augur commanded
at Washington. Stevenson, at Harper's Ferry,
had nine thousand men, who were expected
to keep employed in watching the canal and railroad.
Sheridan wanted to take the Eighth Illinois to
the Valley, but Augur objected, on the ground
that they could not be spared from Washington.
Harper's
Ferry, August 8, 1864. [The day after
Sheridan took formal command of the Army
of the Shenandoah.]
What force have you at Edwards's and Noland's
ferries? (On the Potomac.) Where is Colonel Lazelle
posted? Mosby has about 200 cavalry at, or
near, Point of Rocks.
Washington, D.C., August 3.
Colonel Lazelle is
posted at Falls Church (Fairfax
County) and pickets from the Potomac near Difficult
Creek to Orange and Alexandria Railroad. Major
Waite (Eighth Illinois) has near 600 cavalry along the
Potomac from Great Falls to the mouth of the Monocacy
watching the different fords.
August 8th.
Can the Eighth Illinois
Cavalry be spared? I
find that the cavalry has been so scattered up here that
it is no wonder that it has not done so well.
August 8th.
The Eighth Illinois is
scattered worse than anything
you have. The headquarters of six companies are in
General Wallace's department. Major Waite, with
four companies, is guarding the Potomac between
Great Falls and the Monocacy; another company is
near Port Tobacco, and another is with the Army of
the Potomac. I do not see how Major Waite's command
can be spared, as I have no cavalry to replace it.
August 8th.
Your dispatch in
reference to the Eighth Illinois
received. Colonel Lowell left about 600 men of
Gregg's cavalry division in support of Major Waite.
They moved this morning towards the mouth of the
Monocacy, and will remain in that vicinity. I will
not change the Eighth Illinois Cavalry for the present.
Upper Potomac, August 8th.
General Sheridan
reports that Mosby, with about
300 men, is at or near the Point of Rocks. Look
out well for him.
August 10th.
General Sheridan has
ordered concentration of
the Eighth Illinois Cavalry at Muddy Branch to picket
the river from Monocacy to Washington. The river
is well guarded from mouth of Monocacy to Harper's Ferry.
Charles Town, August 18th.
Keep scouts out in
Loudon County. I have
ordered the Eighth Illinois Cavalry to rendezvous at
Muddy Branch Station. The line of the Potomac
should be watched carefully, and information be sent
to me should any raiding parties attempt to cross.
August 18th.
Mosby is reported to
have within reach and control
from 400 to 500 men and two pieces of artillery.
It will be necessary for you to move with the utmost
caution.
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Your friends and admirers in the University of
Virginia welcome this opportunity of expressing for you
their affection and esteem and of congratulating you
upon the vigor and alertness of body and mind with
which you have rounded out your fourscore years.
Page 10
Page 11CHAPTER II
THE WAR BEGINS
I WENT to Bristol, Virginia, in October, 1855,
and opened a law office. I was a stranger and
the first lawyer that located there.
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Page 22CHAPTER III
A PRIVATE IN THE CAVALRY
IN that fateful April, 1861, our local company,
with other companies of infantry and cavalry,
went into camp in a half-finished building of the
Martha Washington College in the suburbs of
Abingdon. Captain Jones allowed me to remain
in Bristol for some time to close up the business
I had in hand for clients and to provide for my
family. A good many owed me fees when I left
home, and they still owe me. My last appearance
in court was at Blountville, Tennessee, before
the Chancellor.
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Page 33CHAPTER IV
JOHNSTON'S RETREAT FROM HARPER'S FERRY
THE first great military blunder of the war was
committed by Johnston in evacuating Harper's
Ferry. Both Jackson and General Lee, who was
then in Richmond organizing the army and
acting as military adviser, were opposed to this.
They wanted to hold it, not as a fortress with a
garrison, but to break communication with the
West, and a salient for an active force to threaten
the flank of an invading army.
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Page 47CHAPTER V
RECOLLECTIONS OF BATTLE OF MANASSAS
1
THE First Virginia Cavalry remained in the
Shenandoah Valley until the eighteenth of July
when, by forced marches, it was sent to join the
army and take its part in the Battle of Manassas.
When we left the Valley, Stuart sent Captain
Patrick's company to watch Patterson, whose
army was in camp at Charles Town, and to screen
the transfer of the army to the east of the Blue
Ridge. It was well known that in a few days
the most of Patterson's regiments would be
mustered out of service and would go home. It was
evident that his prime object had been not to
divert Johnston's army but to avoid a collision.
Patterson no doubt thought that he had effected
his purpose and was content to rest where he was.
1.
This, the first battle of the war, was known in the North as the
Battle of Bull Run, and in the South as the Battle of Manassas.
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There was a great battle yesterday. The Yankees
are overwhelmingly routed. Thousands of them killed.
I was in the fight. We at one time stood for two hours
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I telegraphed and
wrote you from Manassas early
the next morning after the battle. We made a forced
march from Winchester to get to Manassas in time
for the fight, - travelled two whole days and one
night without stopping (in the rain) and getting only
one meal. We arrived the morning before the fight.
It lasted about ten hours and was terrific. When we
were first brought upon the field we were posted as a
reserve just in rear of our artillery and directly within
range of the hottest fire of the enemy. For two hours
we sat there on our horses, exposed to a perfect storm
of grapeshot, balls, bombs, etc. They burst over our
heads, passed under our horses, yet nobody was hurt.
I rode my horse nearly to death on the battlefield,
going backward and forward, watching the enemy's
movements to prevent their flanking our command.
When I first got on the ground my heart sickened.
We met Hampton's South Carolina legion retreating.
I thought the day was lost and with it the Southern
cause. We begged them, for the honor of their State,
to return. But just then a shout goes up along our lines.
Beauregard arrives and assures us that the day will be
ours. This reanimated the troops to redouble their
efforts. Our regiment had been divided in the morning;
half was taken to charge the enemy early in the action
and the remaining part (ours and Amelia Co.) were held
as a reserve, to cover the retreat of our forces, if
unsuccessful, and to take advantage of any favorable moment.
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We are here awaiting
for the whole army to come
up . . . Several of our men got scared into fits at
the battle. A Dr. - put a blister on his heart as an
excuse not to go into battle; one named - was so
much frightened when the shells commenced bursting
around us that he fell off his horse - commenced
praying; the surgeon ran up, - thought he was shot;
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Page 55CHAPTER VI
THE STRATEGY OF THE BATTLE OF MANASSAS
ON May 24, 1861, the day after Virginia ratified
the Secession Ordinance, McDowell's army
crossed the Potomac on three bridges. McDowell
made his headquarters at Arlington, General
Lee's home, and it should be recorded to his
credit that he showed the highest respect for
persons and property.
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General, C. S. Army.
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General Ewell has been
ordered to take the offensive
upon Centreville. You will follow the movement at
once by attacking him in your front.
[Signed] G. T. Beauregard,
Brigadier.
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On account of the
difficulties in our front it is
thought preferable to countermand the advance of the
right wing. Resume your position.
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Page 86CHAPTER VII
ABOUT FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE
UNTIL the spring of 1862 we did picket duty
on the Potomac, a more agreeable duty than the
routine of a camp. There were some skirmishes
and many false alarms. A hog rooting or an old
hare on its nocturnal rounds would often draw
the fire of a vidette. My company went three
times a week on picket and remained twenty-four
hours, when we were relieved by another company.
We have made no
further advance and I know no
more of contemplated movements than you do. . . .
A few nights ago we went down near Alexandria to
stand as a picket (advance) guard. It was after dark.
When riding along the road a volley was suddenly
poured into us from a thick clump of pines. The
balls whistled around us and Captain Jones' horse
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I was in a little
brush with them one day
last week. A party of ten of us came upon about
150. We fired on them and of course retreated before
such superior numbers. We jumped into the bushes
to reload and give it to them again when they came
up, but instead of pursuing us they put back to their
own camp. . . . When I was last on picket I was
within about four miles of Georgetown and could
distinctly hear the enemy's morning drum beat.
Some of the Yankees came to my post under a flag of
truce - stayed all night, - ate supper with me; and
we treated each other with as much courtesy as did
Richard and Saladin when they met by the Diamond
of the Desert. . . . Our blister plaster doctor affords
Page 88
. . . I received a
fall from my horse one day last
week, down at Falls Church, which came near killing
me. I have now entirely recovered and will return
to camp this morning. I was out on picket one dark
rainy night; there were only three of us at our post; a
large body of cavalry came dashing down towards us
from the direction of the enemy. Our orders were to
fire on all. I fired my gun, started back toward where
our main body were, my horse slipped down, fell on
me, and galloped off, leaving me in a senseless condition
in the road. Fortunately the body of cavalry
turned out to be a company of our own men who had
gone out after night to arrest a spy. When they started
they promised Captain Jones to go by our post and
inform us of the fact, in order to prevent confusion,
- this they failed to do and their own culpable neglect
came near getting some of them killed. . . . Our
troops are gradually encroaching on the Federals, -
now occupying a position in full view of Washington,
- a brush is looked for there to-day. . . . I rode out
one day about a week ago with our wagon after hay,
Page 89
September 17, 1861.
Beauregard and
Johnston are expected to
move their headquarters up to Fairfax to-day. . . .
Although Captain Jones is a strict officer he is very
indulgent to me and never refuses me any favor I ask
him. I think he will be made a Colonel very soon.
Aaron [Mosby's negro servant] considers himself
next in command to Captain Jones. . . . Nobody
thinks the war will continue longer than a few months.
We will clean them out in two more battles.
September 14, 1861.
. . . To-day we go on
picket at the Big Falls
on the Potomac. One hill we occupy commands a
Page 90
September - , 1861.
. . . The Enemy had
come up with three thousand
men, artillery, etc. to Lewisville, one of our picket
stations; when we got there they were still there.
Three men of our Company (including myself) were
detached to go forward to reconnoitre. Col. Stewart
[sic] was with us. While standing near the opening of
a wood a whole regiment of Yankees came up in
full view, within a hundred yards of me. Their
Colonel was mounted on a splendid horse and was
very gaily dressed. I was in the act of shooting him,
which I could have done with ease with my carbine,
when Col. Stewart told me not to shoot, - fearing
they were our men. . . . I never regretted anything
so much in my life as the glorious opportunity I missed
of winging their Colonel. We went back and brought
up our artillery, which scattered them at the first
shot. I never enjoyed anything so much in my life
as standing by the cannon and watching our shells
when they burst over them.
Page 91
On Monday I
participated in what is admitted to
have been the most dashing feat of the war. Col.
Lee took about 80 men out on a scout, - hearing
where a company of about the same number of Yankees
were on picket, we went down and attacked. They
were concealed in a pine thicket, where one man ought
to have been equal to ten outside. We charged right
into them and they poured a raking fire into our ranks.
Fount Beattie and myself, in the ardor of pursuit, had
gotten separated some distance from our main body,
when we came upon two Yankees in the woods. We
ordered them to surrender, but they replied by firing
on us. One of the Yankees jumped behind a tree and
was taking aim at Fount when I leveled my pistol at
him, but missed him. He also fired, but missed Fount,
though within a few feet of him. I then jumped down
from my horse and as the fellow turned to me I rested
my carbine against a tree and shot him dead. He
never knew what struck him. Fount fired at one with
his pistol, but missed. A South Carolinian came up and
killed the other. . . . The man I killed had a letter in
his pocket from his sweetheart Clara. . . . They were
of the Brooklyn Zouaves and fought at Manassas.
Get Aaron to give you
a full account of his adventure,
- his memorable retreat from Bunker Hill,
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Page 99CHAPTER VIII
CAMPAIGNING WITH STUART
THE last time I went on picket was on the 12th
of February (1862). By this time Stuart had
been made a brigadier-general, and Jones was
colonel of the regiment. The road from our
camp to the outpost passed through Centreville,
where General Joe Johnston and Stuart had their
headquarters. On that February day Stuart
joined us, and I observed that an empty carriage
was following, although I did not understand the
reason. When we arrived at Fairfax Court House,
Stuart asked Captain Blackford to detail a man
to go in the carriage with some ladies. There
was a fine family in the place, who always gave
me my breakfast when I was on picket and, as
one of the ladies in the party was a member of the
family, I was detailed to go as an escort several
miles inside our lines. They did not like being
on the picket line where there were frequent
skirmishes. So I left my horse for my messmate,
Fount Beattie, to bring back to camp the next
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Page 102[Undated fragment of a letter to Mrs. Mosby.]
We are suffering the most intense anxiety to hear
the final result from Donelson, - if we are defeated
there it will prolong the war, I fear, but the idea of
giving up or abandoning the field now should never
enter a Southern man's head. To be sure there must
be a costly sacrifice of our best blood, but the coward
dies a thousand deaths, the brave man dies but one.
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March 1, 1862.
Nobody here is the
least discouraged at our late
reverses; that they will prolong the war I have no
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April 1st, 1862.
. . . Although I do
not belong to that Company
(Blackford's), being on the regimental staff, I went with
them into the fight. . . . The appearance of the
enemy when they crossed Cedar Run was the most
magnificent sight I ever beheld.... We let them
[advance guard of cavalry] cross, when, dismounting,
we delivered a volley with our carbines which sent
them back across the deep stream in the wildest
confusion. One fellow was thrown into the water
over his head; and scrambling out ran off and left his
horse; another horse fell, rose, and fell again, burying
his rider with him under the water. We ceased firing,
threw up our caps, and indulged in the most boisterous
laughter. . . . Col. Jones speaks of some service
I have recently rendered. At one time, with four
men, I passed around, got to the rear of the enemy.
discovered that they were making a feint movement on
the railroad, while they were really moving in another
direction. I rode nearly all night to give the information,
which resulted in General Stuart's ordering our
regiment in pursuit and the capture of about 30
Page 109
Our regiment was
reorganized day before yesterday.
Col. [Fitzhugh] Lee was elected over Col. Jones.
Col. Jones left immediately for Richmond. He expects
to be a Brigadier-General. Immediately after
the election I handed in my resignation of my
commission. The President had commissioned me for
the war, but I would not be adjutant of a Colonel
against his wishes or if I were not his first choice.
General Stuart told me yesterday that he would see that
I had a commission.
The papers will give
you about as much as I know
of the fight [Battle of Fair Oaks, or Seven Pines].
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June 16, 1862.
I have just received
your letter this morning. I
returned yesterday with General Stuart from the grandest
scout of the war. I not only helped to execute it,
but was the first one who conceived and demonstrated
that it was practicable. I took four men, several
days ago, and went down among the Yankees and
found out how it could be done. The Yankees gave
us a chase, but we escaped. I reported to General
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June 20, 1862.
Secretary of War.
Permit me to present
to you John S. Mosby, who
for months past has rendered time and again services
of the most important and valuable nature, exposing
himself regardless of danger, and, in my estimation,
fairly won promotion.
Your obedient servant,
J. E. B. Stuart,
Brigadier General Commanding Cavalry.
Page 122CHAPTER IX
THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST POPE
I reached our wagon
camp near Richmond about
twelve o'clock Tuesday and as the battle [Malvern
Hill] was raging below did not go to Richmond. I
came up to get my horse shod. McClellan has
retreated about thirty-five miles and is now under cover
of his gun-boats on James River. . . . McClellan is
badly whipped.
I came up to Richmond yesterday from our camp
below. Our army has now fallen back near Richmond,
as we could not attack McClellan under his gun boats,
it was no use keeping our army so far off from
supplies. . . . I have just returned from an expedition
down James River where I succeeded, with half a
dozen men, in breaking up an assemblage of negroes
and Yankees. They were armed.
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Lincoln
is a fool.
Jeff
Davis rides a white horse,
Lincoln
rides a mule."
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Washington, July 23, '62.
I wrote you from
Falmouth [opposite Fredericksburg],
announcing my capture by the enemy's cavalry
at Beaver Dam. I was going up to see General
Jackson for Stuart. I had a young man with me. I
concluded to let him lead my horse and I would take
the train and pay you a flying visit. I had just arrived
at the depot, - had pulled off my arms and placed
them in a storehouse and was sitting down outdoors
waiting for a train, which was due in the course of an
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I arrived here
yesterday evening. I came by flag
of truce steamer, - landed twelve miles below
Richmond and had to walk all the way up. My feet were
so sore I could scarcely stand. As soon as I got here
I went out to see General Lee, as I had a good deal of
very important information to give him. . . . I
brought information of vital importance.
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Our arms have been
crowned with a glorious victory
[Second Battle of Manassas and Chantilly].
Our army is now marching on toward Leesburg, and
we all suppose it will cross into Maryland. I have
escaped unhurt, though I got my horse slightly shot
in the shoulder and had a bullet through the top of
my hat, which slightly grazed my head. . . . I have
a very good Yankee horse, also two fine saddles and
two pistols I captured. With one man I captured
seven cavalry and two infantry.
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Page 146CHAPTER X
FIRST EXPLOITS AS A PARTISAN
I have been on another
big scout since I wrote.
General Stuart sent me with nine men down to
reconnoitre in the vicinity of Manassas. There was a
Yankee regiment there. We came upon ten. We
charged them with a yell. The Yankees ran and
stampeded their whole regiment, thinking all of Stuart's
cavalry were on them. . . . Jackson is in the Valley.
I will join Stuart in a day or so. I stayed behind on a
scout and have just returned.
I am now with the 1st
regiment near Spottsylvania
Court House, but it is uncertain how long we will be
here. Jackson has arrived. I reckon you saw the
account in the Richmond papers of my scout and
stampede of the Yankees near Manassas. . . . Several of
my old company have been shot lately.
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Enclosed I send a copy
of my report to General
Stuart of my scout down to Manassas when with nine
men I stampeded two or three thousand Yankees.
I see the Richmond papers give Col. Rosser [Fifth
Va. Cavalry] the credit of it. He had nothing to do
with it, and was not in twenty-five miles of there. . . .
General Lee sent me a message expressing his gratification
at my success. I believe I have already written
of my trip around McClellan at Catlett's Station,
when I saw him leave his army at the time he was
superseded by Burnside. The courier by whom I sent
the dispatch to General Stuart announcing it passed
five Yankee cavalry in the road. Not dreaming there
was a rebel army in their rear, they passed on by him,
merely saying "Good morning." We did not go in
disguise, as spies, but in Confederate uniform and with
our arms. Had a slip from a Northern paper, which I
lost, giving an account of a squad of rebel cavalry having
been seen that day in their rear. Aaron thinks
himself quite a hero, though he does not want to come
again in such disagreeable proximity to a bombshell.
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Feb. 4, '63.
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Page 168CHAPTER XI
THE RAID ON FAIRFAX
WHEN we captured prisoners, it was my custom
to examine them apart, and in this way, together
with information gained from citizens, I obtained
a pretty accurate knowledge of conditions in the
enemy's camps. After a few weeks of partisan
life, I meditated a more daring enterprise than
any I had attempted and fortunately received
aid from an unexpected quarter. A deserter
from the Fifth New York Cavalry, named Ames,
came to me. He was a sergeant in his regiment
and came in his full uniform. I never cared to
inquire what his grievance was. The account he
gave me of the distribution of troops and the gaps
in the picket lines coincided with what I knew and
tended to prepossess me in his favor. But my
men were suspicious of his good faith and rather
thought that he had been sent to decoy me with
a plausible story. At first I did not give him my
full confidence but accepted him on probation.
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March 12, 1863.
Captain John S. Mosby
has for a long time attracted
the attention of his generals by his boldness, skill, and
success, so signally displayed in his numerous forays
upon the invaders of his native soil.
Major-General Commanding.
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March 21, 1863.
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Yesterday I attacked a
body of the enemy's cavalry
at Herndon Station, in Fairfax County, completely
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Maj.-Gen. J. E. B. Stuart.
March 21, 1863.
General.
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Washington, D. C.
You will be surprised
to receive a letter from me,
one you know so little, but will remember. In noticing
to-day the item of the enclosed clipping [Mosby's
comment on President Taft's appointment of a
Confederate soldier (White) to be Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court] I could not resist the privilege of
writing to you, as I believe now I am the only surviving
one of the four officers - Major Wells, Capt. Schofield,
Lieut. Watson, and myself - you captured at
Herndon Station, near Dranesville, Va., St. Patrick's
day, March 17, 1863, and with us the picket post of
twenty-one men. Your treatment and [that of]
your men to us on that occasion has always been
gladly remembered by us all - in every respect courteous.
And you kindly gave us our horses to ride
from Upperville to Culpeper Court House, which was
an act of the highest type of a man, and should bury
deep forever the name of a "guerrilla" and substitute
"to picket line a bad disturber." . . .
Lieut. P. C. J. Cheney.
The enclosed letter
from Lieut. P. C. J. Cheney, of
Washington, Vt., explains itself.
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T. S. Peck.
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March 23, 1863,
You will perceive from
the copy of the order herewith
enclosed that the President has appointed you
captain of partisan rangers. The general commanding
directs me to say that it is desired that you proceed
at once to organize your company, with the understanding
that it is to be placed on a footing with all
the troops of the line, and to be mustered unconditionally
in the Confederate service for and during the
war. Though you are to be its captain, the men will
have the privilege of electing the lieutenants so soon
as its members reach the legal standard. You will
report your progress from time to time, and when
the requisite number of men are enrolled, an officer
will be designated to muster the company into the
service.[Mosby's report to General Stuart]
I have the honor to
submit the following report of
the operations of the cavalry since rendering my last
report. On Monday, March 16, I proceeded down the
Little River pike to capture two outposts of the
enemy, each numbering 60 or 70 men. I did not
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Captain Commanding.
April 11, 1863.
Major-General.
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April 13, 1863.
General.
Nominate as major if
it has not already been done.[Report of General Stahel]
Page 197[Telegram, Stahel to Heintzelman]
[Mosby's report to General Stuart]
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I left our point of
rendezvous yesterday for the purpose
of making a night attack on two cavalry companies
of the enemy on the Maryland shore. Had I
succeeded in crossing the river at night, as I expected, I
would have had no difficulty in capturing them; but
unfortunately my guide mistook the road and, instead
of crossing by 11 o'clock at night, I did not get over
until after daylight. The enemy (between 80 and 100
strong), being apprised of my movement, were formed
to receive me. A charge was ordered, the shock of
which the enemy could not resist; and they were
driven several miles in confusion, with the loss of
seven killed, and 17 prisoners; also 20 odd horses or
more. We burned their tents, stores, camp equipage,
etc. I regret the loss of two brave officers killed -
Capt. Brawner and Lieut. Whitescarver. I also had
one man wounded.
Major of Partisan Rangers.
Major General.
Page 200[Extracts from Stuart's Report of the Gettysburg
Campaign]
Maj. Mosby, with his usual daring, penetrated the
enemy's lines and caught a staff-officer of Gen. Hooker
- bearer of despatches to Gen. Pleasanton, commanding
United States cavalry near Aldie. These despatches
disclosed the fact that Hooker was looking to
Aldie with solicitude, and that Pleasanton, with
infantry and cavalry, occupied the place; and that a
reconnaissance in force of cavalry was meditated toward
Warrenton and Culpeper. I immediately despatched
to Gen. Hampton, who was coming by way of Warrenton
from the direction of Beverly Ford, this intelligence,
and directed him to meet this advance at Warrenton.
The captured despatches also gave the entire
number of divisions, from which we could estimate
the approximate strength of the enemy's army. I
therefore concluded in no event to attack with cavalry
alone the enemy at Aldie. . . . Hampton met the
enemy's advance toward Culpeper and Warrenton,
and drove him back without difficulty - a heavy
storm and night intervening to aid the enemy's retreat.
CHAPTER XII
STUART AND THE GETTYSBURG CAMPAIGN
AFTER Chancellorsville, the armies resumed
their positions on the Rappahannock. A brilliant
but barren victory had been won, and the pickets
on the opposite banks of the river again began to
trade in coffee and tobacco. With the years of
hardship and danger, war had not lost all of its
romance, and the soldiers observed in their intercourse
the courtesies of combatants as strictly as
did the Crusaders.
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And
names that must not wither, though the earth
Forgets
her empire with a just decay."
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June 9, 1915.
Dear Mrs. Stuart:
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(Signed) Jno. S. Mosby.
Page 258CHAPTER XIII
THE YEAR AFTER GETTYSBURG
Page 259[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
Page 260[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
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Page 262[Indorsements]
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Major Mosby is
entitled to great credit for his boldness
and skill in his operations against the enemy.
He keeps them in constant apprehension and inflicts
repeated injuries. I have hoped that he would have
been able to raise his command sufficiently for the
command of a Lieutenant-Colonel, and to have it
regularly mustered into the service. I am not aware
that it numbers over 4 companies.[Letter to Mrs. Mosby]
Oct. 1, '63.
Just returned from a
raid. I went down in the
suburbs of Alexandria and burned a railroad bridge
in a quarter of a mile of two forts and directly in range
of their batteries, also captured Colonel Dulaney, aide
to (Governor) Pierpont. Dulaney lives in Alexandria,
- has a son in my command, who was with
me at the time. . . . It was quite an amusing scene,
Page 264[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
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[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
Page 266[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
Page 267[Indorsements]
A subsequent report of
subsequent operations has
been already sent in, this having been mislaid. Major
Mosby continues his distinguished services in the
enemies rear, relieving our people of the depredations
of the enemy in a great measure.
Major-General.
[Report, Mosby to Stuart]
Page 268
Page 269[Indorsement]
The conduct of Major
Mosby is warmly commended
to the notice of the commanding general. His sleepless
vigilance and unceasing activity have done the
enemy great damage. He keeps a large force of the
enemy's cavalry continually employed in Fairfax in
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Page 283CHAPTER XIV
THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST SHERIDAN
ACCORDING to Grant's design, Sheridan left
his base at Harper's Ferry on August 10, 1864,
and started up the Shenandoah Valley. Grant's
main object was to cut Lee's line of communication
with the southwest, for, if this were accomplished,
the inevitable result would be the
fall of Richmond and the end of the war. It
was immaterial whether Sheridan secured this
result by defeating Early - who was defending
the Valley - in battle or by pushing him south
by flank movements.
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[Augur to Sheridan]
[Sheridan to Augur]
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[Sheridan to Augur]
[Augur to Waite]
[Taylor to Augur]
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[Augur to Waite]
