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Destruction and Reconstruction

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Title: Destruction and Reconstruction

Author: Richard Taylor


        
Release date: December 5, 2007 [eBook #23747]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DESTRUCTION AND RECONSTRUCTION ***


E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Graeme Mackreth, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)



DESTRUCTION AND RECONSTRUCTION:

Personal Experiences of the Late War.

by

RICHARD TAYLOR,

Lieutenant-General in the Confederate Army.







New York:
D. Appleton and Company,
549 and 551 Broadway.
1879.

Copyright by
D. Appleton and Company,
1879.




PREFACE.


These reminiscences of Secession, War, and Reconstruction it has seemed
to me a duty to record. An actor therein, accident of fortune afforded
me exceptional advantages for an interior view.

The opinions expressed are sincerely entertained, but of their
correctness such readers as I may find must judge. I have in most cases
been a witness to the facts alleged, or have obtained them from the best
sources. Where statements are made upon less authority, I have carefully
endeavored to indicate it by the language employed.

R. TAYLOR.


_December, 1877._




CONTENTS.


                                                                       PAGE

PREFACE                                                                  3


CHAPTER I.

SECESSION.                                                               9

Causes of the Civil War--The Charleston Convention--Convention
of Louisiana--Temper of the People.


CHAPTER II.

FIRST SCENES OF THE WAR.                                                15

Blindness of the Confederate Government--General Bragg occupies
Pensacola--Battle of Manassas--Its Effects on the North and the
South--"Initiative" and "Defensive" in War.


CHAPTER III.

AFTER MANASSAS.                                                         22

General W.H.T. Walker--The Louisiana Brigade--The "Tigers"--Major
Wheat--General Joseph E. Johnston and Jefferson Davis--Alexander
H. Stephens.


CHAPTER IV.

OPENING OF THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN.                                     31

McClellan as an Organizer--The James River Route to
Richmond--Army of Northern Virginia moved to Orange Court
House--Straggling--General Ewell--Bugeaud's "Maxims"--Uselessness
of Tents--Counsels to Young Officers.


CHAPTER V.

THE VALLEY CAMPAIGN.                                                    42

The Army moved to Gordonsville--Joseph E. Johnston as a
Commander--Valley of Virginia--Stonewall Jackson--Belle
Boyd--Federals routed at Front Royal--Cuirassiers strapped to their
Horses--Battle of Winchester--A "Walk Over" at Strasburg--General
Ashby--Battle of Port Republic.


CHAPTER VI.

"THE SEVEN DAYS AROUND RICHMOND."                                       83

Clever Strategy--The Valley Army summoned to the Defense of
Richmond--Battles of Cold Harbor, Frazier's Farm, Malvern
Hill--Ignorance of the Topography--McClellan as a Commander--General
R.E. Lee--His magnificent Strategy--His Mistakes.


CHAPTER VII.

THE DISTRICT OF LOUISIANA.                                              99

General Bragg--Invasion of Kentucky--Western Louisiana--Its
Topography and River Systems--The Attakapas, Home of the
Acadians--The Creole Population.


CHAPTER VIII.

OPERATIONS IN LOUISIANA AND ON THE MISSISSIPPI.                        111

Federal Post at Bayou Des Allemands Surprised--Marauding by
the Federals--Salt Mines at Petit Anse--General Pemberton--Major
Brent Chief of Artillery--Federal Operations on the Lafourche--Gunboat
Cotton--General Weitzel Advances up the Teche--Capture of Federal
Gunboats--General Kirby Smith.


CHAPTER IX.

ATTACKED BY THE FEDERALS--ATTEMPT TO RELIEVE VICKSBURG--CAPTURE
OF BERWICK'S BAY.                                                      129

Federal Advance against Bisland--Retreat of the
Confederates--Banks's Dispatches--Relief of Vicksburg
impracticable--Capture of Federal Post at Berwick's Bay--Attack
on Fort Butler--Fall of Vicksburg and of Port Hudson.


CHAPTER X.

MOVEMENT TO THE RED RIVER--CAMPAIGN AGAINST BANKS.                     148

The Confederate Losses at Vicksburg and Port Hudson--Federals
beaten at Bayou Bourbeau--Trans-Mississippi Department, its Bureaux
and Staff--A Federal Fleet and Army ascend Red River--Battle of
Pleasant Hill--Success of the Confederates--Perilous Situation
of Banks's Army and the Fleet.


CHAPTER XI.

ESCAPE OF BANKS AND PORTER.                                            176

The Fleet descends Red River to Grand Ecore--Banks concentrates
his Army there--Taylor's Force weakened by General Kirby
Smith--Confederates harass Rear of Federal Column--The Federals
cross the River at Monette's Ferry and reach Alexandria--Retreat
of the Fleet harassed--It passes over the Falls at Alexandria.


CHAPTER XII.

EAST OF THE MISSISSIPPI.                                               196

The Mississippi controlled by the Federals--Taylor assigned
to the Command of Alabama, Mississippi, etc.--Forrest's
Operations--General Sherman in Georgia--Desperate Situation
of Hood--Remnant of his Army sent to North Carolina.


CHAPTER XIII.

CLOSING OPERATIONS OF THE WAR--SURRENDER.                              221

Fall of Mobile--Last Engagement of the War--Johnston-Sherman
Convention--Taylor surrenders to General Canby--Last Hours of the
"Trans-Mississippi Department."


CHAPTER XIV.

CRITICISMS AND REFLECTIONS.                                            230

Gettysburg--Shiloh--Albert Sidney Johnston--Lack of
Statesmanship in the Confederacy--"King Cotton"--Carpet-Baggers.


CHAPTER XV.

RECONSTRUCTION UNDER JOHNSON.                                          239

Interceding for Prisoners--Debauchery and Corruption in
Washington--General Grant--Andrew Johnson--Stevens, Winter
Davis, Sumner--Setting up and pulling down State Governments--The
"Ku-Klux"--Philadelphia Convention.


CHAPTER XVI.

RECONSTRUCTION UNDER GRANT.                                            256

Demoralization at the North--a Corrupt Vice-President--a
Hypocritical Banker--a Great Preacher profiting by his own
Evil Reputation--Knaves made Plenipotentiaries--A Spurious
Legislature installed in the Louisiana State House--General
Sheridan in New Orleans--An American Alberoni--Presidential
Election of 1876--Congress over-awed by a Display of Military
Force.


CHAPTER XVII.

CONCLUSION.                                                            268

The Financial Crisis--Breaches of Trust--Labor
Troubles--Destitution--Negro Suffrage fatal to the South.




DESTRUCTION AND RECONSTRUCTION.




CHAPTER I.

SECESSION.


The history of the United States, as yet unwritten, will show the causes
of the "Civil War" to have been in existence during the Colonial era,
and to have cropped out into full view in the debates of the several
State Assemblies on the adoption of the Federal Constitution, in which
instrument Luther Martin, Patrick Henry, and others, insisted that they
were implanted. African slavery at the time was universal, and its
extinction in the North, as well as its extension in the South, was due
to economic reasons alone.

The first serious difficulty of the Federal Government arose from the
attempt to lay an excise on distilled spirits. The second arose from the
hostility of New England traders to the policy of the Government in the
war of 1812, by which their special interests were menaced; and there is
now evidence to prove that, but for the unexpected peace, an attempt to
disrupt the Union would then have been made.

The "Missouri Compromise" of 1820 was in reality a truce between
antagonistic revenue systems, each seeking to gain the balance of power.
For many years subsequently, slaves--as domestic servants--were taken to
the Territories without exciting remark, and the "Nullification"
movement in South Carolina was entirely directed against the tariff.

Anti-slavery was agitated from an early period, but failed to attract
public attention for many years. At length, by unwearied industry, by
ingeniously attaching itself to exciting questions of the day, with
which it had no natural connection, it succeeded in making a lodgment in
the public mind, which, like a subject exhausted by long effort, is
exposed to the attack of some malignant fever, that in a normal
condition of vigor would have been resisted. The common belief that
slavery was the cause of civil war is incorrect, and Abolitionists are
not justified in claiming the glory and spoils of the conflict and in
pluming themselves as "choosers of the slain."

The vast immigration that poured into the country between the years 1840
and 1860 had a very important influence in directing the events of the
latter year. The numbers were too great to be absorbed and assimilated
by the native population. States in the West were controlled by German
and Scandinavian voters, while the Irish took possession of the seaboard
towns. Although the balance of party strength was not much affected by
these naturalized voters, the modes of political thought were seriously
disturbed, and a tendency was manifested to transfer exciting topics
from the domain of argument to that of violence.

The aged and feeble President, Mr. Buchanan, unfitted for troublous
times, was driven to and fro by ambitious leaders of his own party, as
was the last weak Hapsburg who reigned in Spain by the rival factions of
France and Austria.

Under these conditions the National Democratic Convention met at
Charleston, South Carolina, in the spring of 1860, to declare the
principles on which the ensuing presidential campaign was to be
conducted, and select candidates for the offices of President and
Vice-President. Appointed a delegate by the Democracy of my State,
Louisiana, in company with others I reached Charleston two days in
advance of the time. We were at once met by an invitation to join in
council delegates from the Gulf States, to agree upon some common ground
of action in the Convention, but declined for the reason that we were
accredited to the National Convention, and had no authority to
participate in other deliberations. This invitation and the terms in
which it was conveyed argued badly for the harmony of the Convention
itself, and for the preservation of the unity of the Democracy, then the
only organization supported in all quarters of the country.

It may be interesting to recall the impression created at the time by
the tone and temper of different delegations. New England adhered to the
old tenets of the Jefferson school. Two leaders from Massachusetts,
Messrs. Caleb Cushing and Benjamin F. Butler, of whom the former was
chosen President of the Convention, warmly supported the candidacy of
Mr. Jefferson Davis. New York, under the direction of Mr. Dean Richmond,
gave its influence to Mr. Douglas. Of a combative temperament, Mr.
Richmond was impressed with a belief that "secession" was but a bugbear
to frighten the northern wing of the party. Thus he failed to appreciate
the gravity of the situation, and impaired the value of unusual common
sense and unselfish patriotism, qualities he possessed to an eminent
degree. The anxieties of Pennsylvania as to candidates were accompanied
by a philosophic indifference as to principles. The Northwest was ardent
for Douglas, who divided with Guthrie Missouri, Kentucky, and Tennessee.

Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, and Louisiana held moderate
opinions, and were ready to adopt any honorable means to preserve the
unity of the party and country. The conduct of the South Carolina
delegates was admirable. Representing the most advanced constituency in
the Convention, they were singularly reticent, and abstained from adding
fuel to the flames. They limited their role to that of dignified,
courteous hosts, and played it as Carolina gentlemen are wont to do.
From Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Arkansas, and Texas came the fiery
spirits, led by Mr. William L. Yancey of Alabama, an able rhetorician.
This gentleman had persuaded his State Convention to pass a resolution,
directing its delegates to withdraw from Charleston if the Democracy
there assembled refused to adopt the extreme Southern view as to the
rights of citizens in the territories. In this he was opposed by
ex-Governor Winston, a man of conservative tendencies, and long the
rival of Mr. Yancey in State politics. Both gentlemen were sent to
Charleston, but the majority of their co-delegates sustained Mr. Yancey.

Several days after its organization the National Convention reached a
point which made the withdrawal of Alabama imminent. Filled with anxious
forebodings, I sought after nightfall the lodgings of Messrs. Slidell,
Bayard, and Bright, United States senators, who had come to Charleston,
not as delegates, but under the impulse of hostility to the principles
and candidacy of Mr. Douglas. There, after pointing out the certain
consequences of Alabama's impending action, I made an earnest appeal for
peace and harmony, and with success. Mr. Yancey was sent for, came into
our views after some discussion, and undertook to call his people
together at that late hour, and secure their consent to disregard
instructions. We waited until near dawn for Yancey's return, but his
efforts failed of success. Governor Winston, originally opposed to
instructions as unwise and dangerous, now insisted that they should be
obeyed to the letter, and carried a majority of the Alabama delegates
with him. Thus the last hope of preserving the unity of the National
Democracy was destroyed, and by one who was its earnest advocate.

The withdrawal of Alabama, followed by other Southern States, the
adjournment of a part of the Convention to Baltimore and of another part
to Richmond, and the election of Lincoln by votes of Northern States,
require no further mention.

In January, 1861, the General Assembly of Louisiana met. A member of the
upper branch, and chairman of its Committee on Federal Relations, I
reported, and assisted in passing, an act to call a Convention of the
people of the State to consider of matters beyond the competency of the
Assembly. The Convention met in March, and was presided over by
ex-Governor and ex-United States Senator Alexander Mouton, a man of high
character. I represented my own parish, St. Charles, and was appointed
chairman of the Military and Defense Committee, on behalf of which two
ordinances were reported and passed: one, to raise two regiments; the
other, to authorize the Governor to expend a million of dollars in the
purchase of arms and munitions. The officers of the two regiments were
to be appointed by the Governor, and the men to be enlisted for five
years, unless sooner discharged. More would have been desirable in the
way of raising troops, but the temper of men's minds did not then
justify the effort. The Governor declined to use his authority to
purchase arms, assured as he was on all sides that there was no danger
of war, and that the United States arsenal at Baton Rouge, completely in
our power, would furnish more than we could need. It was vainly urged in
reply that the stores of the arsenal were almost valueless, the arms
being altered flintlock muskets, and the accouterments out of date. The
current was too strong to stem.

The Convention, by an immense majority of votes, adopted an ordinance
declaring that Louisiana ceased to be a State within the Union. Indeed,
similar action having already been taken by her neighbors, Louisiana of
necessity followed. At the time and since, I marveled at the joyous and
careless temper in which men, much my superiors in sagacity and
experience, consummated these acts. There appeared the same general
_gaite de coeur_ that M. Ollivier claimed for the Imperial Ministry
when war was declared against Prussia. The attachment of northern and
western people to the Union; their superiority in numbers, in wealth,
and especially in mechanical resources; the command of the sea; the lust
of rule and territory always felt by democracies, and nowhere to a
greater degree than in the South--all these facts were laughed to scorn,
or their mention was ascribed to timidity and treachery.

As soon as the Convention adjourned, finding myself out of harmony with
prevailing opinion as to the certainty of war and necessity for
preparation, I retired to my estate, determined to accept such
responsibility only as came to me unsought.

The inauguration of President Lincoln; the confederation of South
Carolina, Georgia, and the five Gulf States; the attitude of the border
slave States, hoping to mediate; the assembling of Confederate forces
at Pensacola, Charleston, and other points; the seizure of United States
forts and arsenals; the attack on "Sumter"; war--these followed with
bewildering rapidity, and the human agencies concerned seemed as
unconscious as scene-shifters in some awful tragedy.




CHAPTER II.

FIRST SCENES OF THE WAR.


I was drawn from my retreat by an invitation from General Bragg, a
particular friend, to visit Pensacola, where he commanded the southern
forces, composed of volunteers from the adjacent States. Full of
enthusiasm for their cause, and of the best material, officers and men
were, with few exceptions, without instruction, and the number of
educated officers was, as in all the southern armies, too limited to
satisfy the imperious demands of the staff, much less those of the
drill-master. Besides, the vicious system of election of officers struck
at the very root of that stern discipline without which raw men cannot
be converted into soldiers.

The Confederate Government, then seated at Montgomery, weakly receded
from its determination to accept no volunteers for short terms of
service, and took regiments for twelve months. The same blindness smote
the question of finance. Instead of laying taxes, which the general
enthusiasm would have cheerfully endured, the Confederate authorities
pledged their credit, and that too for an amount which might have
implied a pact with Mr. Seward that, should war unhappily break out, its
duration was to be strictly limited to sixty days. The effect of these
errors was felt throughout the struggle.

General Bragg occupied Pensacola, the United States navy yard, and Fort
Barrancas on the mainland; while Fort Pickens, on Santa Rosa island, was
held by Federal troops, with several war vessels anchored outside the
harbor. There was an understanding that no hostile movement would be
made by either side without notice. Consequently, Bragg worked at his
batteries bearing on Pickens, while Major Brown, the Federal commander,
strengthened with sand bags and earth the weak landward curtain of his
fort; and time was pleasantly passed by both parties in watching each
other's occupation.

Some months before this period, when Florida enforced her assumed right
to control all points within her limits, a small company of United
States artillery, under Lieutenant Slemmer, was stationed at Barrancas,
where it was helpless. After much manoeuvring, the State forces of
Florida induced Slemmer to retire from Barrancas to Pickens, then
_garrisoned_ by one ordnance sergeant, and at the mercy of a corporal's
guard in a rowboat. Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor, was in a similar
condition before Anderson retired to it with his company. The early
seizure of these two fortresses would have spared the Confederates many
serious embarrassments; but such small details were neglected at that
time.

My visit to Pensacola was brought to a close by information from the
Governor of Louisiana of my appointment to the colonelcy of the 9th
Louisiana infantry, a regiment just formed at camp on the railway some
miles north of New Orleans, and under orders for Richmond. Accepting the
appointment, I hastened to the camp, inspected the command, ordered the
Lieutenant Colonel--Randolph, a well-instructed officer for the time--to
move by rail to Richmond as rapidly as transportation was furnished, and
went on to New Orleans, as well to procure equipment, in which the
regiment was deficient, as to give some hours to private affairs. It was
known that there was a scarcity of small-arm ammunition in Virginia,
owing to the rapid concentration of troops; and I was fortunate in
obtaining from the Louisiana authorities a hundred thousand rounds, with
which, together with some field equipment, I proceeded by express to
Richmond, where I found my command, about a thousand strong, just
arrived and preparing to go into camp. The town was filled with rumor of
battle away north at Manassas, where Beauregard commanded the
Confederate forces. A multitude of wild reports, all equally inflamed,
reached my ears while looking after the transportation of my ammunition,
of which I did not wish to lose sight. Reaching camp, I paraded the
regiment, and stated the necessity for prompt action, and my purpose to
make application to be sent to the front immediately. Officers and men
were delighted with the prospect of active service, and largely supplied
want of experience by zeal. Ammunition was served out, three days'
rations were ordered for haversacks, and all camp equipage not
absolutely essential was stored.

These details attended to, at 5 P.M. I visited the war office, presided
over by General Pope Walker of Alabama. When the object of my visit was
stated, the Secretary expressed much pleasure, as he was anxious to send
troops forward, but had few in readiness to move, owing to the lack of
ammunition, etc. As I had been in Richmond but a few hours, my desire to
move and adequate state of preparation gained me some "red-letter" marks
at the war office. The Secretary thought that a train would be in
readiness at 9 o'clock that night. Accordingly, the regiment was marched
to the station, where we remained several weary hours. At length, long
after midnight, our train made its appearance. As the usual time to
Manassas was some six hours, we confidently expected to arrive in the
early forenoon; but this expectation our engine brought to grief. It
proved a machine of the most wheezy and helpless character, creeping
snail-like on levels, and requiring the men to leave the carriages to
help it up grades. As the morning wore on, the sound of guns, reechoed
from the Blue Ridge mountains on our left, became loud and constant. At
every halt of the wretched engine the noise of battle grew more and more
intense, as did our impatience. I hope the attention of the recording
angel was engrossed that day in other directions. Later we met men,
single or in squads, some with arms and some without, moving south, in
which quarter they all appeared to have pressing engagements.

At dusk we gained Manassas Junction, near the field where, on that day,
the battle of first "Manassas" had been fought and won. Bivouacking the
men by the roadside, I sought through the darkness the headquarters of
General Beauregard, to whom I was instructed to report. With much
difficulty and delay the place was found, and a staff officer told me
that orders would be sent the following morning. By these I was directed
to select a suitable camp, thus indicating that no immediate movement
was contemplated.

The confusion that reigned about our camps for the next few days was
extreme. Regiments seemed to have lost their colonels, colonels their
regiments. Men of all arms and all commands were mixed in the wildest
way. A constant fusillade of small arms and singing of bullets were kept
up, indicative of a superfluity of disorder, if not of ammunition. One
of my men was severely wounded in camp by a "stray," and derived no
consolation from my suggestion that it was a delicate attention of our
comrades to mitigate the disappointment of missing the battle. The
elation of our people at their success was natural. They had achieved
all, and more than all, that could have been expected of raw troops; and
some commands had emulated veterans by their steadiness under fire.
Settled to the routine of camp duty, I found many opportunities to go
over the adjacent battle field with those who had shared the action,
then fresh in their memories. Once I had the privilege of so doing in
company with Generals Johnston and Beauregard; and I will now give my
opinion of this, as I purpose doing of such subsequent actions, and
commanders therein, as came within the range of my personal experience
during the war.

Although since the days of Nimrod war has been the constant occupation
of men, the fingers of one hand suffice to number the great commanders.
The "unlearned" hardly think of usurping Tyndall's place in the lecture
room, or of taking his cuneiform bricks from Rawlinson; yet the world
has been much more prolific of learned scientists and philologers than
of able generals. Notwithstanding, the average American (and, judging
from the dictatorship of Maitre Gambetta, the Frenchman) would not have
hesitated to supersede Napoleon at Austerlitz or Nelson at Trafalgar.
True, Cleon captured the Spartan garrison, and Narses gained victories,
and Bunyan wrote the "Pilgrim's Progress;" but pestilent demagogues and
mutilated guardians of Eastern zenanas have not always been successful
in war, nor the great and useful profession of tinkers written allegory.
As men without knowledge have at all times usurped the right to
criticise campaigns and commanders, they will doubtless continue to do
so despite the protests of professional soldiers, who discharge this
duty in a reverent spirit, knowing that the greatest is he who commits
the fewest blunders.

General McDowell, the Federal commander at Manassas, and a trained
soldier of unusual acquirement, was so hounded and worried by ignorant,
impatient politicians and newspapers as to be scarcely responsible for
his acts. This may be said of all the commanders in the beginning of the
war, and notably of Albert Sidney Johnston, whose early fall on the
field of Shiloh was irreparable, and mayhap determined the fate of the
South. McDowell's plan of battle was excellent, and its execution by his
mob no worse than might have been confidently expected. The late
Governor Andrew of Massachusetts observed that his men thought they were
going to a town meeting, and this is exhaustive criticism. With soldiers
at his disposal, McDowell would have succeeded in turning and
overwhelming Beauregard's left, driving him from his rail communications
with Richmond, and preventing the junction of Johnston from the valley.
It appears that Beauregard was to some extent surprised by the attack,
contemplating movements by his own centre and right. His exposed and
weak left stubbornly resisted the shock of attacking masses, while he,
with coolness and personal daring most inspiriting to his men, brought
up assistance from centre and right; and the ground was held until
Johnston, who had skillfully eluded Patterson, arrived and began feeding
our line, when the affair was soon decided.

There can be little question that with a strong brigade of soldiers
Johnston could have gone to Washington and Baltimore. Whether, with his
means, he should have advanced, has been too much and angrily discussed
already. Napoleon held that, no matter how great the confusion and
exhaustion of a victorious army might be, a defeated one must be a
hundred-fold worse, and action should be based on this. Assuredly, if
there be justification in disregarding an axiom of Napoleon, the wild
confusion of the Confederates after Manassas afforded it.

The first skirmishes and actions of the war proved that the Southron,
untrained, was a better fighter than the Northerner--not because of more
courage, but of the social and economic conditions by which he was
surrounded. Devoted to agriculture in a sparsely populated country, the
Southron was self-reliant, a practiced horseman, and skilled in the use
of arms. The dense population of the North, the habit of association for
commercial and manufacturing purposes, weakened individuality of
character, and horsemanship and the use of arms were exceptional
accomplishments. The rapid development of railways and manufactures in
the West had assimilated the people of that region to their eastern
neighbors, and the old race of frontier riflemen had wandered to the far
interior of the continent. Instruction and discipline soon equalized
differences, and battles were decided by generalship and numbers; and
this was the experience of our kinsmen in their great civil war. The
country squires who followed the banners of Newcastle and Rupert at
first swept the eastern-counties yeomanry and the London train-bands
from the field; but fiery and impetuous valor was at last overmatched by
the disciplined purpose and stubborn constancy of Cromwell's Ironsides.

The value of the "initiative" in war cannot be overstated. It surpasses
in power mere accession of numbers, as it requires neither transport nor
commissariat. Holding it, a commander lays his plans deliberately, and
executes them at his own appointed time and in his own way. The
"defensive" is weak, lowering the morale of the army reduced to it,
enforcing constant watchfulness lest threatened attacks become real, and
keeping commander and troops in a state of anxious tension. These
truisms would not deserve mention did not the public mind ignore the
fact that their application is limited to trained soldiers, and often
become impatient for the employment of proved ability to sustain sieges
and hold lines in offensive movements. A collection of untrained men is
neither more nor less than a mob, in which individual courage goes for
nothing. In movement each person finds his liberty of action merged in a
crowd, ignorant and incapable of direction. Every obstacle creates
confusion, speedily converted into panic by opposition. The heroic
defenders of Saragossa could not for a moment have faced a battalion of
French infantry in the open field. Osman's solitary attempt to operate
outside of Plevna met with no success; and the recent defeat of Moukhtar
may be ascribed to incaution in taking position too far from his line of
defense, where, when attacked, manoeuvres of which his people were
incapable became necessary.




CHAPTER III.

AFTER MANASSAS.


After the action at Manassas, the summer and winter of 1861 wore away
without movements of special note in our quarter, excepting the defeat
of the Federals at Ball's Bluff, on the Potomac, by a detached brigade
of Confederates, commanded by General Evans of South Carolina, a
West-Pointer enjoying the sobriquet of _Shanks_ from the thinness of his
legs.

In the organization of our army, my regiment was brigaded with the 6th,
7th, and 8th regiments of the Louisiana infantry, and placed under
General William H.T. Walker of Georgia. Graduated from West Point in the
summer of 1837, this officer joined the 6th United States infantry
operating against the Seminoles in Florida. On Christmas day following
was fought the battle of Okeechobee, the severest fight of that Indian
war. The savages were posted on a thickly jungled island in the lake,
through the waters of which, breast-high, the troops advanced several
hundred yards to the attack. The loss on our side was heavy, but the
Indians were so completely routed as to break their spirit. Colonel
Zachary Taylor commanded, and there won his yellow sash and grade.
Walker was desperately wounded, and the medical people gave him up; but
he laughed at their predictions and recovered. In the war with Mexico,
assaulting Molino del Rey, he received several wounds, all pronounced
fatal, and science thought itself avenged. Again he got well, as he
said, to spite the doctors. Always a martyr to asthma, he rarely enjoyed
sleep but in a sitting posture; yet he was as cheerful and full of
restless activity as the celebrated Earl of Peterborough. Peace with
Mexico established, Walker became commandant of cadets at West Point.
His ability as an instructor, and his lofty, martial bearing, deeply
impressed his new brigade and prepared it for stern work. Subsequently
Walker died on the field near Atlanta, defending the soil of his native
State--a death of all others he would have chosen. I have dwelt somewhat
on his character, because it was one of the strangest I have met. No
enterprise was too rash to awaken his ardor, if it necessitated daring
courage and self-devotion. Truly, he might have come forth from the
pages of old Froissart. It is with unaffected feeling that I recall his
memory and hang before it my humble wreath of immortelles.

In camp our army experienced much suffering and loss of strength. Drawn
almost exclusively from rural districts, where families lived isolated,
the men were scourged with mumps, whooping-cough, and measles, diseases
readily overcome by childhood in urban populations. Measles proved as
virulent as smallpox or cholera. Sudden changes of temperature drove the
eruption from the surface to the internal organs, and fevers, lung and
typhoid, and dysenteries followed. My regiment was fearfully smitten,
and I passed days in hospital, nursing the sick and trying to comfort
the last moments of many poor lads, dying so far from home and friends.
Time and frequent changes of camp brought improvement, but my own health
gave way. A persistent low fever sapped my strength and impaired the use
of my limbs. General Johnston kindly ordered me off to the Fauquier
springs, sulphur waters, some twenty miles to the south. There I was
joined and carefully nursed by a devoted sister, and after some weeks
slowly regained health.

On the eve of returning to the army, I learned of my promotion to
brigadier, to relieve General Walker, transferred to a brigade of
Georgians. This promotion seriously embarrassed me. Of the four colonels
whose regiments constituted the brigade, I was the junior in commission,
and the other three had been present and "won their spurs" at the recent
battle, so far the only important one of the war. Besides, my known
friendship for President Davis, with whom I was connected by his first
marriage with my elder sister, would justify the opinion that my
promotion was due to favoritism. Arrived at headquarters, I obtained
leave to go to Richmond, where, after an affectionate reception, the
President listened to the story of my feelings, the reasons on which
they were based, and the request that the promotion should be revoked.
He replied that he would take a day for reflection before deciding the
matter. The following day I was told that the answer to my appeal would
be forwarded to the army, to which I immediately returned. The President
had employed the delay in writing a letter to the senior officers of the
brigade, in which he began by stating that promotions to the grade of
general officer were by law intrusted to him, and were made for
considerations of public good, of which he alone was judge. He then, out
of abundant kindness for me, went on to soothe the feelings of these
officers with a tenderness and delicacy of touch worthy a woman's hand,
and so effectually as to secure me their hearty support. No wonder that
all who enjoy the friendship of Jefferson Davis love him as Jonathan did
David.

Several weeks without notable incident were devoted to instruction,
especially in marching, the only military quality for which Southern
troops had no aptitude. Owing to the good traditions left by my
predecessor, Walker, and the zeal of officers and men, the brigade made
great progress.

With the army at this time was a battalion of three companies from
Louisiana, commanded by Major Wheat. These detached companies had been
thrown together previous to the fight at Manassas, where Wheat was
severely wounded. The strongest of the three, and giving character to
all, was called the "Tigers." Recruited on the levee and in the alleys
of New Orleans, the men might have come out of "Alsatia," where they
would have been worthy subjects of that illustrious potentate, "Duke
Hildebrod." The captain, who had succeeded to the immediate command of
these worthies on the advancement of Wheat, enjoying the luxury of many
aliases, called himself White, perhaps out of respect for the purity of
the patriotic garb lately assumed. So villainous was the reputation of
this battalion that every commander desired to be rid of it; and
General Johnston assigned it to me, despite my efforts to decline the
honor of such society. He promised, however, to sustain me in any
measures to enforce discipline, and but a few hours elapsed before the
fulfillment of the promise was exacted. For some disorder after tattoo,
several "Tigers" were arrested and placed in charge of the brigade
guard. Their comrades attempted to force the guard and release them. The
attempt failed, and two ringleaders were captured and put in irons for
the night. On the ensuing morning an order for a general court-martial
was obtained from army headquarters, and the court met at 10 A.M. The
prisoners were found guilty, and sentenced to be shot at sunset. I
ordered the "firing party" to be detailed from their own company; but
Wheat and his officers begged to be spared this hard duty, fearing that
the "Tigers" would refuse to fire on their comrades. I insisted for the
sake of the example, and pointed out the serious consequences of
disobedience by their men. The brigade, under arms, was marched out; and
as the news had spread, many thousands from other commands flocked to
witness the scene. The firing party, ten "Tigers," was drawn up fifteen
paces from the prisoners, the brigade provost gave the command to fire,
and the unhappy men fell dead without a struggle. This account is given
because it was the first military execution in the Army of Northern
Virginia; and punishment, so closely following offense, produced a
marked effect. But Major "Bob" Wheat deserves an extended notice.

In the early summer of 1846, after the victories of Palo Alto and Resaca
de la Palma, the United States Army under General Zachary Taylor lay
near the town of Matamoros. Visiting the hospital of a recently joined
volunteer corps from the States, I remarked a bright-eyed youth of some
nineteen years, wan with disease, but cheery withal. The interest he
inspired led to his removal to army headquarters, where he soon
recovered health and became a pet. This was Bob Wheat, son of an
Episcopal clergyman, who had left school to come to the war. He next
went to Cuba with Lopez, was wounded and captured, but escaped the
garrote to follow Walker to Nicaragua. Exhausting the capacities of
South American patriots to _pronounce_, he quitted their society in
disgust, and joined Garibaldi in Italy, whence his keen scent of combat
summoned him home in convenient time to receive a bullet at Manassas.
The most complete Dugald Dalgetty possible, he had "all the defects of
the good qualities" of that doughty warrior.

Some months after the time of which I am writing, a body of Federal
horse was captured in the valley of Virginia. The colonel commanding,
who had been dismounted in the fray, approached me. A stalwart man, with
huge mustaches, cavalry boots adorned with spurs worthy of a
_caballero_, slouched hat, and plume, he strode along with the
nonchalant air of one who had wooed Dame Fortune too long to be cast
down by her frowns. Suddenly Major Wheat, near by, sprang from his horse
with a cry of "Percy! old boy!" "Why, Bob!" was echoed back, and a warm
embrace was exchanged. Colonel Percy Wyndham, an Englishman in the
Federal service, had last parted from Wheat in Italy, or some other
country where the pleasant business of killing was going on, and now
fraternized with his friend in the manner described.

Poor Wheat! A month later, and he slept his last sleep on the bloody
field of Cold Harbor. He lies there in a soldier's grave. Gallant
spirit! let us hope that his readiness to die for his cause has made
"the scarlet of his sins like unto wool."

As the autumn of the year 1861 passed away, the question of army
organization pressed for solution, while divergent opinions were held by
the Government at Richmond and General Johnston. The latter sent me to
President Davis to explain his views and urge their adoption. My mission
met with no success; but in discharging it, I was made aware of the
estrangement growing up between these eminent persons, which
subsequently became "the spring of woes unnumbered." An earnest effort
made by me to remove the cloud, then "no greater than a man's hand,"
failed; though the elevation of character of the two men, which made
them listen patiently to my appeals, justified hope. Time but served to
widen the breach. Without the knowledge and despite the wishes of
General Johnston, the descendants of the ancient dwellers in the cave
of Adullam gathered themselves behind his shield, and shot their arrows
at President Davis and his advisers, weakening the influence of the head
of the cause for which all were struggling.

Immediately after the birth of the Confederacy, a resolution was adopted
by the "Provisional Congress" declaring that military and naval
officers, resigning the service of the United States Government to enter
that of the Confederate, would preserve their relative rank. Later on,
the President was authorized to make five appointments to the grade of
general. These appointments were announced after the battle of Manassas,
and in the following order of seniority: Samuel Cooper, Albert Sidney
Johnston, Robert E. Lee, Joseph E. Johnston, and G.T. Beauregard.

Near the close of President Buchanan's administration, in 1860, died
General Jesup, Quartermaster-General of the United States army; and
Joseph E. Johnston, then lieutenant-colonel of cavalry, was appointed to
the vacancy. Now the Quartermaster-General had the rank, pay, and
emoluments of a brigadier-general; but the rank was staff, and by law
this officer could not exercise command over troops unless by special
assignment. When, in the spring of 1861, the officers in question
entered the service of the Confederacy, Cooper had been Adjutant-General
of the United States Army, with the rank of colonel; Albert Sidney
Johnston, colonel and brigadier-general by brevet, and on duty as such;
Lee, lieutenant-colonel of cavalry, senior to Joseph E. Johnston in the
line before the latter's appointment above mentioned; Beauregard, major
of engineers. In arranging the order of seniority of generals, President
Davis held to the superiority of line to staff rank, while Joseph E.
Johnston took the opposite view, and sincerely believed that injustice
was done him.

After the grave and wondrous scenes through which we have passed, all
this seems like "a tempest in a tea-pot;" but it had much influence and
deserves attention.

General Beauregard, who about this time was transferred to the army in
the West, commanded by Albert Sidney Johnston, was also known to have
grievances. Whatever their source, it could not have been _rank_; but it
is due to this General--a gentleman of taste--to say that no utterances
came from him. Indiscreet persons at Richmond, claiming the privilege
and discharging the duty of friendship, gave tongue to loud and frequent
plaints, and increased the confusion of the hour.

As the year 1862 opened, and the time for active movements drew near,
weighty cares attended the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia.
The folly of accepting regiments for the short period of twelve months,
to which allusion has been made, was now apparent. Having taken service
in the spring of 1861, the time of many of the troops would expire just
as the Federal host in their front might be expected to advance. A large
majority of the men were willing to reenlist, provided that they could
first go home to arrange private affairs; and fortunately, the fearful
condition of the country permitted the granting of furloughs on a large
scale. Except on a few pikes, movements were impossible, and an army
could no more have marched across country than across Chesapeake bay.
Closet warriors in cozy studies, with smooth macadamized roadways before
their doors, sneer at the idea of military movements being arrested by
mud. I apprehend that these gentlemen have never served in a bad country
during the rainy season, and are ignorant of the fact that, in his
Russian campaign, the elements proved too strong for the genius of
Napoleon.

General Johnston met the difficulties of his position with great
coolness, tact, and judgment; but his burden was by no means lightened
by the interference of certain politicians at Richmond. These were
perhaps inflamed by the success that had attended the tactical efforts
of their Washington peers. At all events, they now threw themselves upon
military questions with much ardor. Their leader was Alexander H.
Stephens of Georgia, Vice-President of the Confederacy, who is entitled
to a place by himself.

Like the celebrated John Randolph of Roanoke, Mr. Stephens has an acute
intellect attached to a frail and meagre body. As was said by the witty
Canon of St. Paul's of Francis Jeffrey, his mind is in a state of
indecent exposure. A trained and skillful politician, he was for many
years before the war returned to the United States House of
Representatives from the district in which he resides, and his "device"
seems always to have been, "Fiat justitia, ruat coelum." When, in
December, 1849, the Congress assembled, there was a Whig administration,
and the same party had a small majority in the lower House, of which Mr.
Stephens, an ardent Whig, was a member; but he could not see his way to
support his party's candidate for Speaker, and this inability to find a
road, plain mayhap to weaker organs, secured the control of the House to
his political adversaries. During the exciting period preceding
"secession" Mr. Stephens held and avowed moderate opinions; but, swept
along by the resistless torrent surrounding him, he discovered and
proclaimed that "slavery was the corner-stone of the confederacy." In
the strong vernacular of the West, this was "rather piling the agony" on
the humanitarians, whose sympathies were not much quickened toward us
thereby. As the struggle progressed, Mr. Stephens, with all the
impartiality of an equity judge, marked many of the virtues of the
Government north of the Potomac, and all the vices of that on his own
side of the river. Regarding the military questions in hand he
entertained and publicly expressed original opinions, which I will
attempt to convey as accurately as possible. The war was for principles
and rights, and it was in defense of these, as well as of their
property, that the people had taken up arms. They could always be relied
on when a battle was imminent; but, when no fighting was to be done,
they had best be at home attending to their families and interests. As
their intelligence was equal to their patriotism, they were as capable
of judging of the necessity of their presence with the colors as the
commanders of armies, who were but professional soldiers fighting for
rank and pay, and most of them without property in the South. It may be
observed that such opinions are more comfortably cherished by political
gentlemen, two hundred miles away, than by commanders immediately in
front of the enemy.

In July, 1865, two months after the close of the great war, I visited
Washington in the hope of effecting some change in the condition of
Jefferson Davis, then ill and a prisoner at Fortress Monroe; and this
visit was protracted to November before its object was accomplished. In
the latter part of October of the same year Mr. Stephens came to
Washington, where he was the object of much attention on the part of
people controlling the Congress and the country. Desiring his
cooeperation in behalf of Mr. Davis, I sought and found him sitting near
a fire (for he is of a chilly nature), smoking his pipe. He heard me in
severe politeness, and, without unnecessary expenditure of enthusiasm,
promised his assistance. Since the war Mr. Stephens has again found a
seat in the Congress, where, unlike the rebel brigadiers, his presence
is not a rock of offense to the loyal mind.[1]

[Footnote 1: The foregoing sketch of Mr. Stephens appeared substantially
in the "North American Review," but the date of the interview in
Washington was not stated. Thereupon Mr. Stephens, in print, seized on
July, and declared that, as he was a prisoner in Fort Warren during that
month, the interview was a "Munchausenism." He also disputes the
correctness of the opinions concerning military matters ascribed to him,
although scores of his associates at Richmond will attest it. Again, he
assumes the non-existence of twelve-months' regiments because some took
service for the war, etc.

Like other ills, feeble health has its compensations, especially for
those who unite restless vanity and ambition to a feminine desire for
sympathy. It has been much the habit of Mr. Stephens to date
controversial epistles from "a sick chamber," as do ladies in a delicate
situation. A diplomatist of the last century, the Chevalier D'Eon, by
usurping the privileges of the opposite sex, inspired grave doubts
concerning his own.]




CHAPTER IV.

OPENING OF THE PENINSULAR CAMPAIGN.


Pursuing "the even tenor of his way," Johnston rapidly increased the
efficiency of his army. Furloughed men returned in large numbers before
their leaves had terminated, many bringing new recruits with them.
Divisions were formed, and officers selected to command them. Some
islands of dry land appeared amid the sea of mud, when the movement of
the Federal forces in our front changed the theatre of war and opened
the important campaign of 1862.

When overtaken by unexpected calamity African tribes destroy the fetich
previously worshiped, and with much noise seek some new idol in which
they can incarnate their vanities and hopes. Stunned by the rout at
Manassas, the North pulled down an old veteran, Scott, and his
lieutenant, McDowell, and set up McClellan, who caught the public eye at
the moment by reason of some minor successes in Western Virginia, where
the Confederate General, Robert Garnett, was killed. It is but fair to
admit that the South had not emulated the wisdom of Solomon nor the
modesty of Godolphin. The capture of Fort Sumter, with its garrison of
less than a hundred men, was hardly Gibraltar; yet it would put the
grandiloquent hidalgoes of Spain on their mettle to make more clatter
over the downfall of the cross of St. George from that historic rock.
McClellan was the young Napoleon, the very god of war in his latest
avatar. While this was absurd, and in the end injurious to McClellan, it
was of service to his Government; for it strengthened his loins to the
task before him--a task demanding the highest order of ability and the
influence of a demigod. A great war was to be carried on, and a great
army, the most complex of machines, was necessary.

The cardinal principles on which the art of war is based are few and
unchangeable, resembling in this the code of morality; but their
application varies as the theatre of the war, the genius and temper of
the people engaged, and the kind of arms employed. The United States had
never possessed a great army. The entire force engaged in the war
against Mexico would scarcely have made a respectable _corps d'armee_,
and to study the organization of great armies and campaigns a recurrence
to the Napoleonic era was necessary. The Governments of Europe for a
half century had been improving armaments, and changing the tactical
unit of formation and manoeuvre to correspond to such improvement. The
Italian campaign of Louis Napoleon established some advance in field
artillery, but the supreme importance of breech-loaders was not admitted
until Sadowa, in 1866. All this must be considered in determining the
value of McClellan's work. Taking the raw material intrusted to him, he
converted it into a great military machine, complete in all its parts,
fitted for its intended purpose. Moreover, he resisted the natural
impatience of his Government and people, and the follies of politicians
and newspapers, and for months refused to put his machine at work before
all its delicate adjustments were perfected. Thus, much in its own
despite, the North obtained armies and the foundation of success. The
correctness of the system adopted by McClellan proved equal to all
emergencies, and remained unchanged until the close of the war.
Disappointed in his hands, and suffering painful defeats in those of his
immediate successors, the "Army of the Potomac" always recovered, showed
itself a vital organism, and finally triumphed. McClellan organized
victory for his section, and those who deem the preservation of the
"Union" the first of earthly duties should not cease to do him
reverence.

I have here written of McClellan, not as a leader, but an organizer of
armies; and as such he deserves to rank with the Von Moltkes,
Scharnhorsts, and Louvois of history.

Constant struggle against the fatal interference of politicians with his
military plans and duties separated McClellan from the civil department
of his Government, and led him to adopt a policy of his own. The
military road to Richmond, and the only one as events proved, was by the
peninsula and the James river, and it was his duty so to advise. He
insisted, and had his way; but not for long. A little of that
selfishness which serves lower intelligences as an instinct of
self-preservation would have shown him that his most dangerous enemies
were not in his front. The Administration at Washington had to deal with
a people blind with rage, an ignorant and meddlesome Congress, and a
wolfish horde of place-hunters. A sudden dash of the Confederates on the
capital might change the attitude of foreign powers. These political
considerations weighed heavily at the seat of government, but were of
small moment to the military commander. In a conflict between civil
policy and military strategy, the latter must yield. The jealousy
manifested by the Venetian and Dutch republics toward their commanders
has often been criticised; but it should be remembered that they kept
the military in strict subjection to the civil power; and when they were
overthrown, it was by foreign invasion, not by military usurpation.
Their annals afford no example of the declaration by their generals that
the special purpose of republican armies is to preserve civil order and
enforce civil law.

After the battle of Chickamauga, in 1863, General Grant was promoted to
the command of the armies of the United States, and called to
Washington. In a conference between him, President Lincoln, and
Secretary Stanton, the approaching campaign in Virginia was discussed.
Grant said that the advance on Richmond should be made by the James
river. It was replied that the Government required the interposition of
an army between Lee and Washington, and could not consent at that late
day to the adoption of a plan which would be taken by the public as a
confession of previous error. Grant observed that he was indifferent as
to routes; but if the Government preferred its own, so often tried, to
the one he suggested, it must be prepared for the additional loss of a
hundred thousand men. The men were promised, Grant accepted the
governmental plan of campaign, and was supported to the end. The above
came to me well authenticated, and I have no doubt of its
correctness.[2]

[Footnote 2: Some of the early pages of this work were published in the
number of the "North American Review" for January, 1878, including the
above account of a conference at Washington between President Lincoln,
Secretary Stanton, and General Grant. In the "New York Herald" of May
27, 1878, appears an interview with General Grant, in which the latter
says, "The whole story is a fabrication, and whoever vouched for it to
General Taylor vouched for a fiction." General Halleck, who was at the
time in question Chief of Staff at the war office, related the story of
this conference to me in New Orleans, where he was on a visit from
Louisville, Ky., then his headquarters. Several years later General
Joseph E. Johnston gave me the same account, which he had from another
officer of the United States Army, also at the time in the war office. A
letter from General Johnston, confirming the accuracy of my relation,
has been published. Since, I have received a letter, dated New York,
June 6, 1878, wherein the writer states that in Washington, in 1868 or
1869, he had an account of this conference, as I give it, from General
John A. Logan of Illinois. When calling for reenforcements, after his
losses in the Wilderness, General Grant reminded Stanton of his
opposition to the land route in their conference, but added that "he
would now fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." The writer
of this communication is quite unknown to me, but manifests his
sincerity by suggesting that I should write to General Logan, who, he
doubts not, will confirm his statement. I have not so written, because I
have no acquaintance with General Logan, and no desire to press the
matter further. From many sources comes evidence that _a conference_ was
held, which General Grant seems to deny. Moreover, I cannot forget that
in one notable instance a question of fact was raised against General
Grant, with much burden of evidence; and while declaiming any wish or
intent of entering on another, one may hold in all charity that General
Grant's memory may be as treacherous about _facts_ as mine proved about
a _date_, when, in a letter to the "Herald," I stupidly gave two years
after General Halleck's death as the time of his conversation with me.
These considerations have determined me to let the account of the
conference stand as originally written.]

During his operations on the peninsula and near Richmond, McClellan
complained much of want of support; but the constancy with which
President Lincoln adhered to him was, under the circumstances,
surprising. He had drifted away from the dominant Washington sentiment,
and alienated the sympathies of his Government. His fall was inevitable;
the affection of the army but hastened it; even victory could not save
him. He adopted the habit of saying, "My army," "My soldiers." Such
phraseology may be employed by a Frederick or Napoleon, sovereigns as
well as generals; but officers command the armies of their governments.
General McClellan is an upright, patriotic man, incapable of
wrong-doing, and has a high standard of morality, to which he lives more
closely than most men do to a lower one; but it is to be remembered that
the examples of the good are temptations and opportunities to the
unscrupulous. The habit of thought underlying such language, or soon
engendered by its use, has made Mexico and the South American republics
the wonder and scorn of civilization.

The foregoing account of McClellan's downfall is deemed pertinent
because he was the central figure in the Northern field, and laid the
foundation of Northern success. Above all, he and a gallant band of
officers supporting him impressed a generous, chivalric spirit on the
war, which soon faded away; and the future historian, in recounting some
later operations, will doubt if he is dealing with campaigns of generals
or expeditions of brigands.

The intention of McClellan to transfer his base from Washington to some
point farther south was known to Johnston, but there was doubt whether
Fredericksburg or the Peninsula would be selected. To meet either
contingency, Johnston in the spring of 1862 moved his army from Manassas
to the vicinity of Orange Court House, where he was within easy reach of
both Fredericksburg and Richmond. The movement was executed with the
quiet precision characteristic of Johnston, unrivaled as a master of
logistics.

I was ordered to withdraw the infantry pickets from the lower Bull Run
after nightfall, and move on a road through the county of Prince
William, east of the line of railway from Manassas to Orange. This road
was tough and heavy, and crossed by frequent streams, affluents of the
neighboring Potomac. These furnished occupation and instruction to a
small body of pioneers, recently organized, while the difficulties of
the road drew heavily on the marching capacity--or rather incapacity--of
the men. Straggling was then, and continued throughout to be, the vice
of Southern armies. The climate of the South was not favorable to
pedestrian exercise, and, centaur-like, its inhabitants, from infancy to
old age, passed their lives on horseback, seldom walking the most
insignificant distance. When brought into the field, the men were as
ignorant of the art of marching as babes, and required for their
instruction the same patient, unwearied attention. On this and
subsequent marches frequent halts were made, to enable stragglers to
close up; and I set the example to mounted officers of riding to the
rear of the column, to encourage the weary by relieving them of their
arms, and occasionally giving a footsore fellow a cast on my horse. The
men appreciated this care and attention, followed advice as to the
fitting of their shoes, cold bathing of feet, and healing of abrasions,
and soon held it a disgrace to fall out of ranks. Before a month had
passed the brigade learned how to march, and, in the Valley with
Jackson, covered long distances without leaving a straggler behind.
Indeed, in several instances it emulated the achievement of Crauford's
"Light Brigade," whose wonderful march to join Wellington at Talavera
remains the stoutest feat of modern soldiership.

Arrived at the Rappahannock, I found the railway bridge floored for the
passage of troops and trains. The army, with the exception of Ewell's
division, composed of Elzey's, Trimball's, and my brigades, had passed
the Rapidan, and was lying around Orange Court House, where General
Johnston had his headquarters. Some horse, under Stuart, remained north
of the Rappahannock, toward Manassas.

For the first time Ewell had his division together and under his
immediate command; and as we remained for many days between the rivers,
I had abundant opportunities for studying the original character of
"Dick Ewell." We had known each other for many years, but now our
friendship and intercourse became close and constant. Graduated from
West Point in 1840, Ewell joined the 1st regiment of United States
dragoons, and, saving the Mexican war, in which he served with such
distinction as a young cavalryman could gain, his whole military life
had been passed on the plains, where, as he often asserted, he had
learned all about commanding fifty United States dragoons, and forgotten
everything else. In this he did himself injustice, as his career proves;
but he was of a singular modesty. Bright, prominent eyes, a bomb-shaped,
bald head, and a nose like that of Francis of Valois, gave him a
striking resemblance to a woodcock; and this was increased by a
bird-like habit of putting his head on one side to utter his quaint
speeches. He fancied that he had some mysterious internal malady, and
would eat nothing but frumenty, a preparation of wheat; and his
plaintive way of talking of his disease, as if he were some one else,
was droll in the extreme. His nervousness prevented him from taking
regular sleep, and he passed nights curled around a camp-stool, in
positions to dislocate an ordinary person's joints and drive the
"caoutchouc man" to despair. On such occasions, after long silence, he
would suddenly direct his eyes and nose toward me with "General Taylor!
What do you suppose President Davis made me a major-general
for?"--beginning with a sharp accent and ending with a gentle lisp.
Superbly mounted, he was the boldest of horsemen, invariably leaving the
roads to take timber and water. No follower of the "Pytchley" or "Quorn"
could have lived with him across country. With a fine tactical eye on
the battle field, he was never content with his own plan until he had
secured the approval of another's judgment, and chafed under the
restraint of command, preparing to fight with the skirmish line. On two
occasions in the Valley, during the temporary absence of Jackson from
the front, Ewell summoned me to his side, and immediately rushed forward
among the skirmishers, where some sharp work was going on. Having
refreshed himself, he returned with the hope that "old Jackson would not
catch him at it." He always spoke of Jackson, several years his junior,
as "old," and told me in confidence that he admired his genius, but was
certain of his lunacy, and that he never saw one of Jackson's couriers
approach without expecting an order to assault the north pole.

Later, after he had heard Jackson seriously declare that he never ate
pepper because it produced a weakness in his left leg, he was confirmed
in this opinion. With all his oddities, perhaps in some measure because
of them, Ewell was adored by officers and men.

Orders from headquarters directed all surplus provisions, in the country
between the Rappahannock and Rapidan, to be sent south of the latter
stream. Executing these orders strictly, as we daily expected to rejoin
the army, the division began to be straitened for supplies. The
commissary of my brigade, Major Davis, was the very pearl of
commissaries. Indefatigable in discharge of duty, he had as fine a nose
for bullocks and bacon as Major Monsoon for sherry. The commissaries of
the other brigades were less efficient, and for some days drew rations
from Davis; but it soon became my duty to take care of my own command,
and General Ewell's attention was called to the subject. The General
thought that it was impossible so rich a country could be exhausted, and
sallied forth on a cattle hunt himself. Late in the day he returned with
a bull, jaded as was he of Ballyraggan after he had been goaded to the
summit of that classic pass, and venerable enough to have fertilized the
milky mothers of the herds of our early Presidents, whose former estates
lie in this vicinity. With a triumphant air Ewell showed me his plunder.
I observed that the bull was a most respectable animal, but would hardly
afford much subsistence to eight thousand men. "Ah! I was thinking of my
fifty dragoons," replied the General. The joke spread, and doubtless
furnished sauce for the happy few to whose lot the bull fell.

Meantime, the cavalry force in our front had been withdrawn, and the
Federal pickets made their appearance on the north bank of the
Rappahannock, occasionally exchanging a shot with ours across the
stream. This served to enliven us for a day or two, and kept Ewell
busy, as he always feared lest some one would get under fire before him.
At length a fire of artillery and small arms was opened from the north
end of the bridge, near the south end of which my brigade was camped.
Ordering the command to move out, I galloped down to the river, where I
found Ewell assisting with his own hands to place some guns in position.
The affair was over in a few minutes. The enemy had quietly run up two
pieces of artillery, supported by dismounted horsemen, and opened fire
on my camp; but the promptness with which the men had moved prevented
loss, saving one or two brush huts, and a few mess pans.

The bridge had previously been prepared for burning, Ewell's orders
being to destroy all railway bridges behind him, to prevent the use of
the rails by the Federals. During the little _alerte_ mentioned, I saw
smoke rising from the bridge, which was soon a mass of flame. Now, this
was the only bridge for some miles up or down; and though the river was
fordable at many points, the fords were deep and impassable after rains.
Its premature destruction not only prevented us from scouting and
foraging on the north bank, but gave notice to the enemy of our purpose
to abandon the country. Annoyed, and doubtless expressing the feeling in
my countenance, as I watched the flames, Ewell, after a long silence,
said, "You don't like it." Whereupon I related the following from
Bugeaud's "Maxims": At the close of the Napoleonic wars, Bugeaud, a
young colonel, commanded a French regiment on the Swiss frontier. A
stream spanned by a bridge, but fordable above and below, separated him
from an Austrian force of four times his strength. He first determined
to destroy the bridge, but reflected that if left it might tempt the
enemy, whenever he moved, to neglect the fords. Accordingly, he masked
his regiment as near his end of the bridge as the topography of the
ground permitted, and waited. The Austrians moved by the bridge, and
Bugeaud, seizing the moment, fell upon them in the act of crossing and
destroyed the entire force. Moral: 'Tis easier to watch and defend one
bridge than many miles of fordable water. "Why did you keep the story
until the bridge was burnt?" exclaimed Ewell. Subsequently, alleging
that he had small opportunity for study after leaving West Point, he
drew from me whatever some reading and a good memory could supply; but
his shrewd remarks changed many erroneous opinions I had formed, and our
"talks" were of more value to me than to him.

As our next move, hourly expected, would take us beyond the reach of
railways, I here reduced the brigade to light marching order. My own
kit, consisting of a change of underwear and a tent "fly," could be
carried on my horse. A fly can be put up in a moment, and by stopping
the weather end with boughs a comfortable hut is made. The men carried
each his blanket, an extra shirt and drawers, two pairs of socks
(woolen), and a pair of extra shoes. These, with his arm and ammunition,
were a sufficient load for strong marching. Tents, especially in a
wooded country, are not only a nuisance, involving much transportation,
the bane of armies, but are detrimental to health. In cool weather they
are certain to be tightly closed, and the number of men occupying them
breeds a foul atmosphere. The rapidity with which men learn to shelter
themselves, and their ingenuity in accomplishing it under unfavorable
conditions, are surprising. My people grumbled no little at being
"stripped", but soon admitted that they were better for it, and came to
despise useless _impedimenta_.

I early adopted two customs, and adhered to them throughout the war. The
first was to examine at every halt the adjacent roads and paths, their
direction and condition; distances of nearest towns and cross-roads; the
country, its capacity to furnish supplies, as well as general
topography, etc., all of which was embodied in a rude sketch, with notes
to impress it on memory. The second was to imagine while on the march an
enemy before me to be attacked, or to be received in my position, and
make the necessary dispositions for either contingency. My imaginary
manoeuvres were sad blunders, but I corrected them by experience drawn
from actual battles, and can safely affirm that such slight success as I
had in command was due to these customs. Assuredly, a knowledge of
details will not make a great general; but there can be no greatness in
war without such knowledge, for genius is but a capacity to grasp and
apply details.

These observations are not for the "heaven-born," who from their closets
scan with eagle glance fields of battle, whose mighty pens slay their
thousands and their tens of thousands, and in whose "Serbonian"
inkstands "armies whole" disappear; but it is hoped that they may prove
useful to the young adopting the profession of arms, who may feel
assured that the details of the art of war afford "scope and verge" for
the employment of all their faculties. Conscientious study will not
perhaps make them great, but it will make them respectable; and when the
responsibility of command comes, they will not disgrace their flag,
injure their cause, nor murder their men.




CHAPTER V.

THE VALLEY CAMPAIGN.


At length the expected order to march came, and we moved south to
Gordonsville. In one of his letters to Madame du Deffand, Horace Walpole
writes of the English spring as "coming in with its accustomed
severity," and such was our experience of a Virginian spring; or rather,
it may be said that winter returned with renewed energy, and we had for
several days snow, sleet, rain, and all possible abominations in the way
of weather. Arrived at Gordonsville, whence the army had departed for
the Peninsula, we met orders to join Jackson in the Valley, and marched
thither by Swift Run "Gap"--the local name for mountain passes. Swift
Run, an affluent of the Rapidan, has its source in this gap. The orders
mentioned were the last received from General Joseph E. Johnston, from
whom subsequent events separated me until the close of the war; and
occasion is thus furnished for the expression of opinion of his
character and services.

In the full vigor of mature manhood, erect, alert, quick, and decisive of
speech, General Johnston was the beau ideal of a soldier. Without the least
proneness to blandishments, he gained and held the affection and confidence
of his men. Brave and impetuous in action, he had been often wounded, and
no officer of the general staff of the old United States army had seen so
much actual service with troops. During the Mexican war he was permitted to
take command of a voltigeur regiment, and rendered brilliant service. In
1854 he resigned from the engineers to accept the lieutenant-colonelcy of
a cavalry regiment. When the civil war became certain, a Virginian by
birth, he left the position of Quartermaster-General of the United States,
and offered his sword to the Confederacy. To the East, as his great
namesake Albert Sidney to the West, he was "the rose and fair expectancy"
of our cause; and his timely march from Patterson's front in the Valley
to assist Beauregard at Manassas confirmed public opinion of his capacity.
Yet he cannot be said to have proved a fortunate commander. Leaving out
of view Bentonville and the closing scenes in North Carolina, which were
rather the spasmodic efforts of despair than regular military movements,
General Johnston's "offensive" must be limited to Seven Pines or Fair Oaks.
Here his plan was well considered and singularly favored of fortune. Some
two corps of McClellan's army were posted on the southwest or Richmond side
of the Chickahominy, and a sudden rise of that stream swept away bridges
and overflowed the adjacent lowlands, cutting off these corps from their
supports. They ought to have been crushed, but Johnston fell, severely
wounded; upon which confusion ensued, and no results of importance were
attained. Official reports fail, most unwisely, to fix the responsibility
of the failure, and I do not desire to add to the gossip prevailing then
and since.

From his own account of the war we can gather that Johnston regrets he
did not fight on the Oostenaula, after Polk had joined him. It appears
that in a council two of his three corps commanders, Polk, Hardee, and
Hood, were opposed to fighting there; but to call a council at all was a
weakness not to be expected of a general of Johnston's ability and
self-reliant nature.

I have written of him as a master of logistics, and his skill in
handling troops was great. As a retreat, the precision and coolness of
his movements during the Georgia campaign would have enhanced the
reputation of Moreau; but it never seems to have occurred to him to
assume the offensive during the many turning movements of his flanks,
movements involving time and distance. Dispassionate reflection would
have brought him to the conclusion that Lee was even more overweighted
in Virginia than he in Georgia; that his Government had given him every
available man, only leaving small garrisons at Wilmington, Charleston,
Savannah, and Mobile; that Forrest's command in Mississippi, operating
on Sherman's communications, was virtually doing his work, while it was
idle to expect assistance from the trans-Mississippi region. Certainly,
no more egregious blunder was possible than that of relieving him from
command in front of Atlanta. If he intended to fight there, he was
entitled to execute his plan. Had he abandoned Atlanta without a
struggle, his removal would have met the approval of the army and
public, an approval which, under the circumstances of its action, the
Richmond Government failed to receive.

I am persuaded that General Johnston's mind was so jaundiced by the
unfortunate disagreement with President Davis, to which allusion has
been made in an earlier part of these reminiscences, as to seriously
cloud his judgment and impair his usefulness. He sincerely believed
himself the Esau of the Government, grudgingly fed on bitter herbs,
while a favored Jacob enjoyed the flesh-pots. Having known him
intimately for many years, having served under his command and studied
his methods, I feel confident that his great abilities under happier
conditions would have distinctly modified, if not changed, the current
of events. Destiny willed that Davis and Johnston should be brought into
collision, and the breach, once made, was never repaired. Each misjudged
the other to the end.

Ewell's division reached the western base of Swift Run Gap on a lovely
spring evening, April 30, 1862, and in crossing the Blue Ridge seemed to
have left winter and its rigors behind. Jackson, whom we moved to join,
had suddenly that morning marched toward McDowell, some eighty miles
west, where, after uniting with a force under General Edward Johnson, he
defeated the Federal general Milroy. Some days later he as suddenly
returned. Meanwhile we were ordered to remain in camp on the Shenandoah
near Conrad's store, at which place a bridge spanned the stream.

The great Valley of Virginia was before us in all its beauty. Fields of
wheat spread far and wide, interspersed with woodlands, bright in their
robes of tender green. Wherever appropriate sites existed, quaint old
mills, with turning wheels, were busily grinding the previous year's
harvest; and grove and eminence showed comfortable homesteads. The soft
vernal influence shed a languid grace over the scene. The theatre of war
in this region was from Staunton to the Potomac, one hundred and twenty
miles, with an average width of some twenty-five miles; and the Blue
Ridge and Alleghanies bounded it east and west. Drained by the
Shenandoah with its numerous affluents, the surface was nowhere flat,
but a succession of graceful swells, occasionally rising into abrupt
hills. Resting on limestone, the soil was productive, especially of
wheat, and the underlying rock furnished abundant metal for the
construction of roads. Railway communication was limited to the Virginia
Central, which entered the Valley by a tunnel east of Staunton and
passed westward through that town; to the Manassas Gap, which traversed
the Blue Ridge at the pass of that name and ended at Strasburg; and to
the Winchester and Harper's Ferry, thirty miles long. The first extended
to Richmond by Charlottesville and Gordonsville, crossing at the former
place the line from Washington and Alexandria to Lynchburg; the second
connected Strasburg and Front Royal, in the Valley, with the same line
at Manassas Junction; and the last united with the Baltimore and Ohio at
Harper's Ferry. Frequent passes or gaps in the mountains, through which
wagon roads had been constructed, afforded easy access from east and
west; and pikes were excellent, though unmetaled roads became heavy
after rains.

But the glory of the Valley is Massanutten. Rising abruptly from the
plain near Harrisonburg, twenty-five miles north of Staunton, this
lovely mountain extends fifty miles, and as suddenly ends near
Strasburg. Parallel with the Blue Ridge, and of equal height, its sharp
peaks have a bolder and more picturesque aspect, while the abruptness of
its slopes gives the appearance of greater altitude. Midway of
Massanutten, a gap with good road affords communication between
Newmarket and Luray. The eastern or Luray valley, much narrower than the
one west of Massanutten, is drained by the east branch of the
Shenandoah, which is joined at Front Royal, near the northern end of the
mountain, by its western affluent, whence the united waters flow north,
at the base of the Blue Ridge, to meet the Potomac at Harper's Ferry.

The inhabitants of this favored region were worthy of their inheritance.
The north and south were peopled by scions of old colonial families, and
the proud names of the "Old Dominion" abounded. In the central counties
of Rockingham and Shenandoah were many descendants of German settlers.
These were thrifty, substantial farmers, and, like their kinsmen of
Pennsylvania, expressed their opulence in huge barns and fat cattle. The
devotion of all to the Southern cause was wonderful. Jackson, a Valley
man by reason of his residence at Lexington, south of Staunton, was
their hero and idol. The women sent husbands, sons, lovers, to battle as
cheerfully as to marriage feasts. No oppression, no destitution could
abate their zeal. Upon a march I was accosted by two elderly sisters,
who told me they had secreted a large quantity of bacon in a well on
their estate, hard by. Federals had been in possession of the country,
and, fearing the indiscretion of their slaves, they had done the work at
night with their own hands, and now desired to _give_ the meat to their
people. Wives and daughters of millers, whose husbands and brothers were
in arms, worked the mills night and day to furnish flour to their
soldiers. To the last, women would go distances to carry the modicum of
food between themselves and starvation to a suffering Confederate.
Should the sons of Virginia ever commit dishonorable acts, grim indeed
will be their reception on the further shores of Styx. They can expect
no recognition from the mothers who bore them.

Ere the war closed, the Valley was ravaged with a cruelty surpassing
that inflicted on the Palatinate two hundred years ago. That foul deed
smirched the fame of Louvois and Turenne, and public opinion, in what
has been deemed a ruder age, forced an apology from the "Grand
Monarque." Yet we have seen the official report of a Federal general
wherein are recounted the many barns, mills, and other buildings
destroyed, concluding with the assertion that "a crow flying over the
Valley must take rations with him." In the opinion of the admirers of
the officer making this report, the achievement on which it is based
ranks with Marengo. Moreover, this same officer, General Sheridan, many
years after the close of the war, denounced several hundred thousands of
his fellow citizens as "banditti," and solicited permission of his
Government to deal with them as such. May we not well ask whether
religion, education, science and art combined have lessened the
brutality of man since the days of Wallenstein and Tilly?

While in camp near Conrad's store, the 7th Louisiana, Colonel Hays, a
crack regiment, on picket down stream, had a spirited affair, in which
the enemy was driven with the loss of a score of prisoners. Shortly
after, for convenience of supplies, I was directed to cross the river
and camp some miles to the southwest. The command was in superb
condition, and a four-gun battery from Bedford county, Virginia, Captain
Bowyer, had recently been added to it. The four regiments, 6th, 7th,
8th, and 9th Louisiana, would average above eight hundred bayonets. Of
Wheat's battalion of "Tigers" and the 7th I have written. The 6th,
Colonel Seymour, recruited in New Orleans, was composed of Irishmen,
stout, hardy fellows, turbulent in camp and requiring a strong hand, but
responding to kindness and justice, and ready to follow their officers
to the death. The 9th, Colonel Stafford, was from North Louisiana.
Planters or sons of planters, many of them men of fortune, soldiering
was a hard task to which they only became reconciled by reflecting that
it was "niddering" in gentlemen to assume voluntarily the discharge of
duties and then shirk. The 8th, Colonel Kelly, was from the
Attakapas--"Acadians," the race of which Longfellow sings in
"Evangeline." A home-loving, simple people, few spoke English, fewer
still had ever before moved ten miles from their natal _cabanas_; and
the war to them was "a liberal education," as was the society of the
lady of quality to honest Dick Steele. They had all the light gayety of
the Gaul, and, after the manner of their ancestors, were born cooks. A
capital regimental band accompanied them, and whenever weather and
ground permitted, even after long marches, they would waltz and "polk"
in couples with as much zest as if their arms encircled the supple
waists of the Celestines and Melazies of their native Teche. The Valley
soldiers were largely of the Presbyterian faith, and of a solemn, pious
demeanor, and looked askant at the caperings of my Creoles, holding them
to be "devices and snares."

The brigade adjutant, Captain (afterward Colonel) Eustace Surget, who
remained with me until the war closed, was from Mississippi, where he
had large estates. Without the slightest military training, by study and
zeal, he soon made himself an accomplished staff officer. Of singular
coolness in battle, he never blundered, and, though much exposed, pulled
through without a scratch. My aide, Lieutenant Hamilton, grandson of
General Hamilton of South Carolina, was a cadet in his second year at
West Point when war was declared, upon which he returned to his State--a
gay, cheery lad, with all the pluck of his race.

At nightfall of the second day in this camp, an order came from General
Jackson to join him at Newmarket, twenty odd miles north; and it was
stated that my division commander, Ewell, had been apprised of the
order. Our position was near a pike leading south of west to
Harrisonburg, whence, to gain Newmarket, the great Valley pike ran due
north. All roads near our camp had been examined and sketched, and among
them was a road running northwest over the southern foot-hills of
Massanutten, and joining the Valley pike some distance to the north of
Harrisonburg. It was called the Keazletown road, from a little German
village on the flank of Massanutten; and as it was the hypothenuse of
the triangle, and reported good except at two points, I decided to take
it. That night a pioneer party was sent forward to light fires and
repair the road for artillery and trains. Early dawn saw us in motion,
with lovely weather, a fairish road, and men in high health and spirits.

Later in the day a mounted officer was dispatched to report our approach
and select a camp, which proved to be beyond Jackson's forces, then
lying in the fields on both sides of the pike. Over three thousand
strong, neat in fresh clothing of gray with white gaiters, bands playing
at the head of their regiments, not a straggler, but every man in his
place, stepping jauntily as on parade, though it had marched twenty
miles and more, in open column with arms at "right shoulder shift," and
rays of the declining sun flaming on polished bayonets, the brigade
moved down the broad, smooth pike, and wheeled on to its camping ground.
Jackson's men, by thousands, had gathered on either side of the road to
see us pass. Indeed, it was a martial sight, and no man with a spark of
sacred fire in his heart but would have striven hard to prove worthy of
such a command.

After attending to necessary camp details, I sought Jackson, whom I had
never met. And here it may be remarked that he then by no means held the
place in public estimation which he subsequently attained. His Manassas
reputation was much impaired by operations in the Valley, to which he
had been sent after that action. The winter march on Romney had resulted
in little except to freeze and discontent his troops; which discontent
was shared and expressed by the authorities at Richmond, and Jackson
resigned. The influence of Colonel Alek Boteler, seconded by that of the
Governor of Virginia, induced him to withdraw the resignation. At
Kernstown, three miles south of Winchester, he was roughly handled by
the Federal General Shields, and only saved from serious disaster by the
failure of that officer to push his advantage, though Shields was
usually energetic.

The mounted officer who had been sent on in advance pointed out a figure
perched on the topmost rail of a fence overlooking the road and field,
and said it was Jackson. Approaching, I saluted and declared my name and
rank, then waited for a response. Before this came I had time to see a
pair of cavalry boots covering feet of gigantic size, a mangy cap with
visor drawn low, a heavy, dark beard, and weary eyes--eyes I afterward
saw filled with intense but never brilliant light. A low, gentle voice
inquired the road and distance marched that day. "Keazletown road, six
and twenty miles." "You seem to have no stragglers." "Never allow
straggling." "You must teach my people; they straggle badly." A bow in
reply. Just then my creoles started their band and a waltz. After a
contemplative suck at a lemon, "Thoughtless fellows for serious work"
came forth. I expressed a hope that the work would not be less well done
because of the gayety. A return to the lemon gave me the opportunity to
retire. Where Jackson got his lemons "no fellow could find out," but he
was rarely without one. To have lived twelve miles from that fruit would
have disturbed him as much as it did the witty Dean.

Quite late that night General Jackson came to my camp fire, where he
stayed some hours. He said we would move at dawn, asked a few questions
about the marching of my men, which seemed to have impressed him, and
then remained silent. If silence be golden, he was a "bonanza." He
sucked lemons, ate hard-tack, and drank water, and praying and fighting
appeared to be his idea of the "whole duty of man."

In the gray of the morning, as I was forming my column on the pike,
Jackson appeared and gave the route--north--which, from the situation of
its camp, put my brigade in advance of the army. After moving a short
distance in this direction, the head of the column was turned to the
east and took the road over Massanutten gap to Luray. Scarce a word was
spoken on the march, as Jackson rode with me. From time to time a
courier would gallop up, report, and return toward Luray. An ungraceful
horseman, mounted on a sorry chestnut with a shambling gait, his huge
feet with outturned toes thrust into his stirrups, and such parts of his
countenance as the low visor of his shocking cap failed to conceal
wearing a wooden look, our new commander was not prepossessing. That
night we crossed the east branch of the Shenandoah by a bridge, and
camped on the stream, near Luray. Here, after three long marches, we
were but a short distance below Conrad's store, a point we had left
several days before. I began to think that Jackson was an unconscious
poet, and, as an ardent lover of nature, desired to give strangers an
opportunity to admire the beauties of his Valley. It seemed hard lines
to be wandering like sentimental travelers about the country, instead
of gaining "kudos" on the Peninsula.

Off the next morning, my command still in advance, and Jackson riding
with me. The road led north between the east bank of the river and the
western base of the Blue Ridge. Rain had fallen and softened it, so as
to delay the wagon trains in rear. Past midday we reached a wood
extending from the mountain to the river, when a mounted officer from
the rear called Jackson's attention, who rode back with him. A moment
later, there rushed out of the wood to meet us a young, rather
well-looking woman, afterward widely known as Belle Boyd. Breathless
with speed and agitation, some time elapsed before she found her voice.
Then, with much volubility, she said we were near Front Royal, beyond
the wood; that the town was filled with Federals, whose camp was on the
west side of the river, where they had guns in position to cover the
wagon bridge, but none bearing on the railway bridge below the former;
that they believed Jackson to be west of Massanutten, near Harrisonburg;
that General Banks, the Federal commander, was at Winchester, twenty
miles northwest of Front Royal, where he was slowly concentrating his
widely scattered forces to meet Jackson's advance, which was expected
some days later. All this she told with the precision of a staff officer
making a report, and it was true to the letter. Jackson was possessed of
these facts before he left Newmarket, and based his movements upon them;
but, as he never told anything, it was news to me, and gave me an idea
of the strategic value of Massanutten--pointed out, indeed, by
Washington before the Revolution. There also dawned on me quite another
view of our leader than the one from which I had been regarding him for
two days past.

Convinced of the correctness of the woman's statements, I hurried
forward at "a double," hoping to surprise the enemy's idlers in the
town, or swarm over the wagon bridge with them and secure it. Doubtless
this was rash, but I felt immensely "cocky" about my brigade, and
believed that it would prove equal to any demand. Before we had cleared
the wood Jackson came galloping from the rear, followed by a company of
horse. He ordered me to deploy my leading regiment as skirmishers on
both sides of the road and continue the advance, then passed on. We
speedily came in sight of Front Royal, but the enemy had taken the
alarm, and his men were scurrying over the bridge to their camp, where
troops could be seen forming. The situation of the village is
surpassingly beautiful. It lies near the east bank of the Shenandoah,
which just below unites all its waters, and looks directly on the
northern peaks of Massanutten. The Blue Ridge, with Manassas Gap,
through which passes the railway, overhangs it on the east; distant
Alleghany bounds the horizon to the west; and down the Shenandoah, the
eye ranges over a fertile, well-farmed country. Two bridges spanned the
river--a wagon bridge above, a railway bridge some yards lower. A good
pike led to Winchester, twenty miles, and another followed the river
north, whence many cross-roads united with the Valley pike near
Winchester. The river, swollen by rain, was deep and turbulent, with a
strong current. The Federals were posted on the west bank, here somewhat
higher than the opposite, and a short distance above the junction of
waters, with batteries bearing more especially on the upper bridge.

Under instructions, my brigade was drawn up in line, a little retired
from the river, but overlooking it--the Federals and their guns in full
view. So far, not a shot had been fired. I rode down to the river's
brink to get a better look at the enemy through a field-glass, when my
horse, heated by the march, stepped into the water to drink. Instantly a
brisk fire was opened on me, bullets striking all around and raising a
little shower-bath. Like many a foolish fellow, I found it easier to get
into than out of a difficulty. I had not yet led my command into action,
and, remembering that one must "strut" one's little part to the best
advantage, sat my horse with all the composure I could muster. A
provident camel, on the eve of a desert journey, would not have laid in
a greater supply of water than did my thoughtless beast. At last he
raised his head, looked placidly around, turned, and walked up the bank.

This little incident was not without value, for my men welcomed me with
a cheer; upon which, as if in response, the enemy's guns opened, and,
having the range, inflicted some loss on my line. We had no guns up to
reply, and, in advance as has been mentioned, had outmarched the troops
behind us. Motionless as a statue, Jackson sat his horse some few yards
away, and seemed lost in thought. Perhaps the circumstances mentioned
some pages back had obscured his star; but if so, a few short hours
swept away the cloud, and it blazed, Sirius-like, over the land. I
approached him with the suggestion that the railway bridge might be
passed by stepping on the cross-ties, as the enemy's guns bore less
directly on it than on the upper bridge. He nodded approval. The 8th
regiment was on the right of my line, near at hand; and dismounting,
Colonel Kelly led it across under a sharp musketry fire. Several men
fell to disappear in the dark water beneath; but the movement continued
with great rapidity, considering the difficulty of walking on ties, and
Kelly with his leading files gained the opposite shore. Thereupon the
enemy fired combustibles previously placed near the center of the wagon
bridge. The loss of this structure would have seriously delayed us, as
the railway bridge was not floored, and I looked at Jackson, who, near
by, was watching Kelly's progress. Again he nodded, and my command
rushed at the bridge. Concealed by the cloud of smoke, the suddenness of
the movement saved us from much loss; but it was rather a near thing. My
horse and clothing were scorched, and many men burned their hands
severely while throwing brands into the river. We were soon over, and
the enemy in full flight to Winchester, with loss of camp, guns, and
prisoners. Just as I emerged from flames and smoke, Jackson was by my
side. How he got there was a mystery, as the bridge was thronged with my
men going at full speed; but smoke and fire had decidedly freshened up
his costume.

In the angle formed by the two branches of the river was another camp
held by a Federal regiment from Maryland. This was captured by a gallant
little regiment of Marylanders, Colonel Bradley Johnson, on our side. I
had no connection with this spirited affair, saving that these
Marylanders had acted with my command during the day, though not
attached to it. We followed the enemy on the Winchester road, but to
little purpose, as we had few horsemen over the river. Carried away by
his ardor, my commissary, Major Davis, gathered a score of mounted
orderlies and couriers, and pursued until a volley from the enemy's rear
guard laid him low on the road, shot through the head. During my service
west of the Mississippi River, I sent for the colonel of a mounted
regiment from western Texas, a land of herdsmen, and asked him if he
could furnish men to hunt and drive in cattle. "Why! bless you, sir, I
have men who can find cattle where there _aint any_," was his reply.
Whatever were poor Davis's abilities as to non-existent supplies, he
could find all the country afforded, and had a wonderful way of cajoling
old women out of potatoes, cabbages, onions, and other garden stuff,
giving variety to camp rations, and of no small importance in preserving
the health of troops. We buried him in a field near the place of his
fall. He was much beloved by the command, and many gathered quietly
around the grave. As there was no chaplain at hand, I repeated such
portions of the service for the dead as a long neglect of pious things
enabled me to recall.

Late in the night Jackson came out of the darkness and seated himself by
my camp fire. He mentioned that I would move with him in the morning,
then relapsed into silence. I fancied he looked at me kindly, and
interpreted it into an approval of the conduct of the brigade. The
events of the day, anticipations of the morrow, the death of Davis,
drove away sleep, and I watched Jackson. For hours he sat silent and
motionless, with eyes fixed on the fire. I took up the idea that he was
inwardly praying, and he remained throughout the night.

Off in the morning, Jackson leading the way, my brigade, a small body of
horse, and a section of the Rockbridge (Virginia) artillery forming the
column. Major Wheat, with his battalion of "Tigers," was directed to
keep close to the guns. Sturdy marchers, they trotted along with the
horse and artillery at Jackson's heels, and after several hours were
some distance in advance of the brigade, with which I remained.

A volley in front, followed by wild cheers, stirred us up to a
"double," and we speedily came upon a moving spectacle. Jackson had
struck the Valley pike at Middletown, twelve miles south of Winchester,
along which a large body of Federal horse, with many wagons, was
hastening north. He had attacked at once with his handful of men,
overwhelmed resistance, and captured prisoners and wagons. The gentle
Tigers were looting right merrily, diving in and out of wagons with the
activity of rabbits in a warren; but this occupation was abandoned on my
approach, and in a moment they were in line, looking as solemn and
virtuous as deacons at a funeral. Prisoners and spoil were promptly
secured. The horse was from New England, a section in which horsemanship
was an unknown art, and some of the riders were strapped to their
steeds. Ordered to dismount, they explained their condition, and were
given time to unbuckle. Many breastplates and other protective devices
were seen here, and later at Winchester. We did not know whether the
Federals had organized cuirassiers, or were recurring to the customs of
Gustavus Adolphus. I saw a poor fellow lying dead on the pike, pierced
through breastplate and body by a rifle ball. Iron-clad men are of small
account before modern weapons.

A part of the Federal column had passed north before Jackson reached the
pike, and this, with his mounted men, he pursued. Something more than a
mile to the south a road left the pike and led directly west, where the
Federal General Fremont, of whom we shall hear more, commanded "the
Mountain Department." Attacked in front, as described, a body of
Federals, horse, artillery, and infantry, with some wagons, took this
road, and, after moving a short distance, drew up on a crest, with
unlimbered guns. Their number was unknown, and for a moment they looked
threatening. The brigade was rapidly formed and marched straight upon
them, when their guns opened. A shell knocked over several men of the
7th regiment, and a second, as I rode forward to an eminence to get a
view, struck the ground under my horse and exploded. The saddle cloth on
both sides was torn away, and I and Adjutant Surget, who was just behind
me, were nearly smothered with earth; but neither man nor horse received
a scratch. The enemy soon limbered up and fled west. By some
well-directed shots, as they crossed a hill, our guns sent wagons flying
in the air, with which "P.P.C." we left them and marched north.

At dusk we overtook Jackson, pushing the enemy with his little mounted
force, himself in advance of all. I rode with him, and we kept on
through the darkness. There was not resistance enough to deploy
infantry. A flash, a report, and a whistling bullet from some covert met
us, but there were few casualties. I quite remember thinking at the time
that Jackson was invulnerable, and that persons near him shared that
quality. An officer, riding hard, overtook us, who proved to be the
chief quartermaster of the army. He reported the wagon trains far
behind, impeded by a bad road in Luray Valley. "The ammunition wagons?"
sternly. "All right, sir. They were in advance, and I doubled teams on
them and brought them through." "Ah!" in a tone of relief.

To give countenance to this quartermaster, if such can be given of a
dark night, I remarked jocosely: "Never mind the wagons. There are
quantities of stores in Winchester, and the General has invited me to
breakfast there to-morrow."

Jackson, who had no more capacity for jests than a Scotchman, took this
seriously, and reached out to touch me on the arm. In fact, he was of
Scotch-Irish descent, and his unconsciousness of jokes was _de race_.
Without physical wants himself, he forgot that others were differently
constituted, and paid little heed to commissariat; but woe to the man
who failed to bring up ammunition! In advance, his trains were left far
behind. In retreat, he would fight for a wheelbarrow.

Some time after midnight, by roads more direct from Front Royal, other
troops came on the pike, and I halted my jaded people by the roadside,
where they built fires and took a turn at their haversacks.

Moving with the first light of morning, we came to Kernstown, three
miles from Winchester, and the place of Jackson's fight with Shields.
Here heavy and sustained firing, artillery and small arms, was heard. A
staff officer approached at full speed to summon me to Jackson's
presence and move up my command. A gallop of a mile or more brought me
to him. Winchester was in sight, a mile to the north. To the east Ewell
with a large part of the army was fighting briskly and driving the enemy
on to the town. On the west a high ridge, overlooking the country to the
south and southeast, was occupied by a heavy mass of Federals with guns
in position. Jackson was on the pike, and near him were several
regiments lying down for shelter, as the fire from the ridge was heavy
and searching. A Virginian battery, Rockbridge artillery, was fighting
at a great disadvantage, and already much cut up. Poetic authority
asserts that "Old Virginny never tires," and the conduct of this battery
justified the assertion of the muses. With scarce a leg or wheel for man
and horse, gun or caisson, to stand on, it continued to hammer away at
the crushing fire above.

Jackson, impassive as ever, pointed to the ridge and said, "You must
carry it." I replied that my command would be up by the time I could
inspect the ground, and rode to the left for that purpose. A small
stream, Abraham's creek, flowed from the west through the little vale at
the southern base of the ridge, the ascent of which was steep, though
nowhere abrupt. At one point a broad, shallow, trough-like depression
broke the surface, which was further interrupted by some low copse,
outcropping stone, and two fences. On the summit the Federal lines were
posted behind a stone wall, along a road coming west from the pike. Worn
somewhat into the soil, this road served as a countersink and
strengthened the position. Further west, there was a break in the ridge,
which was occupied by a body of horse, the extreme right of the enemy's
line.

There was scarce time to mark these features before the head of my
column appeared, when it was filed to the left, close to the base of the
ridge, for protection from the plunging fire. Meanwhile, the Rockbridge
battery held on manfully and engaged the enemy's attention. Riding on
the flank of my column, between it and the hostile line, I saw Jackson
beside me. This was not the place for the commander of the army, and I
ventured to tell him so; but he paid no attention to the remark. We
reached the shallow depression spoken of, where the enemy could depress
his guns, and his fire became close and fatal. Many men fell, and the
whistling of shot and shell occasioned much ducking of heads in the
column. This annoyed me no little, as it was but child's play to the
work immediately in hand. Always an admirer of delightful "Uncle Toby,"
I had contracted the most villainous habit of his beloved army in
Flanders, and, forgetting Jackson's presence, ripped out, "What the
h--are you dodging for? If there is any more of it, you will be halted
under this fire for an hour." The sharp tones of a familiar voice
produced the desired effect, and the men looked as if they had swallowed
ramrods; but I shall never forget the reproachful surprise expressed in
Jackson's face. He placed his hand on my shoulder, said in a gentle
voice, "I am afraid you are a wicked fellow," turned, and rode back to
the pike.

The proper ground gained, the column faced to the front and began the
ascent. At the moment the sun rose over the Blue Ridge, without cloud or
mist to obscure his rays. It was a lovely Sabbath morning, the 25th of
May, 1862. The clear, pure atmosphere brought the Blue Ridge and
Alleghany and Massanutten almost overhead. Even the cloud of murderous
smoke from the guns above made beautiful spirals in the air, and the
broad fields of luxuriant wheat glistened with dew. It is remarkable
how, in the midst of the most absorbing cares, one's attention may be
fixed by some insignificant object, as mine was by the flight past the
line of a bluebird, one of the brightest-plumaged of our feathered
tribes, bearing a worm in his beak, breakfast for his callow brood.
Birdie had been on the war path, and was carrying home spoil.

As we mounted we came in full view of both armies, whose efforts in
other quarters had been slackened to await the result of our movement. I
felt an anxiety amounting to pain for the brigade to acquit itself
handsomely; and this feeling was shared by every man in it. About half
way up, the enemy's horse from his right charged; and to meet it, I
directed Lieutenant-Colonel Nicholls, whose regiment, the 8th, was on
the left, to withhold slightly his two flank companies. By one volley,
which emptied some saddles, Nicholls drove off the horse, but was soon
after severely wounded. Progress was not stayed by this incident.
Closing the many gaps made by the fierce fire, steadied the rather by
it, and preserving an alignment that would have been creditable on
parade, the brigade, with cadenced step and eyes on the foe, swept
grandly over copse and ledge and fence, to crown the heights from which
the enemy had melted away. Loud cheers went up from our army, prolonged
to the east, where warm-hearted Ewell cheered himself hoarse, and led
forward his men with renewed energy. In truth, it was a gallant feat of
arms, worthy of the pen of him who immortalized the charge of the
"Buffs" at Albuera.

Breaking into column, we pursued closely. Jackson came up and grasped my
hand, worth a thousand words from another, and we were soon in the
streets of Winchester, a quaint old town of some five thousand
inhabitants. There was a little fighting in the streets, but the people
were all abroad--certainly all the women and babies. They were frantic
with delight, only regretting that so many "Yankees" had escaped, and
seriously impeded our movements. A buxom, comely dame of some five and
thirty summers, with bright eyes and tight ankles, and conscious of
these advantages, was especially demonstrative, exclaiming, "Oh! you are
too late--too late!" Whereupon, a tall Creole from the Teche sprang from
the ranks of the 8th regiment, just passing, clasped her in his arms,
and imprinted a sounding kiss on her ripe lips, with "Madame! je
n'arrive jamais trop tard." A loud laugh followed, and the dame, with a
rosy face but merry twinkle in her eye, escaped.

Past the town, we could see the Federals flying north on the Harper's
Ferry and Martinsburg roads. Cavalry, of which there was a considerable
force with the army, might have reaped a rich harvest, but none came
forward. Raised in the adjoining region, our troopers were gossiping
with their friends, or worse. Perhaps they thought that the war was
over. Jackson joined me, and, in response to my question, "Where is the
cavalry?" glowered and was silent. After several miles, finding that we
were doing no good--as indeed infantry, preserving its organization,
cannot hope to overtake a flying enemy--I turned into the fields and
camped.

Here I will "say my say" about Confederate cavalry; and though there
were exceptions to the following remarks, they were too few to qualify
their general correctness. The difficulty of converting raw men into
soldiers is enhanced manifold when they are mounted. Both man and horse
require training, and facilities for rambling, with temptation so to do,
are increased. There was but little time, and it may be said less
disposition, to establish camps of instruction. Living on horseback,
fearless and dashing, the men of the South afforded the best possible
material for cavalry. They had every quality but discipline, and
resembled Prince Charming, whose manifold gifts, bestowed by her
sisters, were rendered useless by the malignant fairy. Scores of them
wandered about the country like locusts, and were only less destructive
to their own people than the enemy. The universal devotion of Southern
women to their cause led them to give indiscriminately to all wearing
the gray. Cavalry officers naturally desired to have as large commands
as possible, and were too much indulged in this desire. Brigades and
regiments were permitted to do work appropriate to squadrons and
companies, and the cattle were unnecessarily broken down. Assuredly, our
cavalry rendered much excellent service, especially when dismounted and
fighting as infantry. Such able officers as Stuart, Hampton, and the
younger Lees in the east, Forrest, Green, and Wheeler in the west,
developed much talent for war; but their achievements, however
distinguished, fell far below the standard that would have been reached
had not the want of discipline impaired their efforts and those of their
men.

After the camp was established, I rode back to Winchester to look after
my wounded and see my sister, the same who had nursed me the previous
autumn. By a second marriage she was Mrs. Dandridge, and resided in the
town. Her husband, Mr. Dandridge, was on duty at Richmond. Depot of all
Federal forces in the Valley, Winchester was filled with stores.
Prisoners, guns, and wagons, in large numbers, had fallen into our
hands. Of especial value were ordnance and medical stores.

The following day my command was moved ten miles north on the pike
leading by Charlestown to Harper's Ferry, and after a day some miles
east toward the Shenandoah. This was in consequence of the operations of
the Federal General Shields, who, in command of a considerable force to
the east of the Blue Ridge, passed Manassas Gap and drove from Front
Royal a regiment of Georgians, left there by Jackson. Meanwhile, a part
of the army was pushed forward to Martinsburg and beyond, while another
part threatened and shelled Harper's Ferry. Jackson himself was engaged
in forwarding captured stores to Staunton.

On Saturday, May 31, I received orders to move through Winchester, clear
the town of stragglers, and continue to Strasburg. Few or no stragglers
were found in Winchester, whence the sick and wounded, except extreme
cases, had been taken. I stopped for a moment, at a house near the field
of the 25th, to see Colonel Nicholls. He had suffered amputation of the
arm that morning, and the surgeons forbade his removal; so that, much to
my regret and more to his own, he was left. We reached camp at Strasburg
after dark, a march of thirty odd miles, weather very warm. Winder, with
his brigade, came in later, after a longer march from the direction of
Harper's Ferry. Jackson sat some time at my camp fire that night, and
was more communicative than I remember him before or after. He said
Fremont, with a large force, was three miles west of our present camp,
and must be defeated in the morning. Shields was moving up Luray Valley,
and might cross Massanutten to Newmarket, or continue south until he
turned the mountain to fall on our trains near Harrisonburg. The
importance of preserving the immense trains, filled with captured
stores, was great, and would engage much of his personal attention;
while he relied on the army, under Ewell's direction, to deal promptly
with Fremont. This he told in a low, gentle voice, and with many
interruptions to afford time, as I thought and believe, for inward
prayer. The men said that his anxiety about the wagons was because of
the lemons among the stores.

Dawn of the following day (Sunday) was ushered in by the sound of
Fremont's guns. Our lines had been early drawn out to meet him, and
skirmishers pushed up to the front to attack. Much cannonading, with
some rattle of small arms, ensued. The country was densely wooded, and
little save the smoke from the enemy's guns could be seen. My brigade
was in reserve a short distance to the rear and out of the line of fire;
and here a ludicrous incident occurred. Many slaves from Louisiana had
accompanied their masters to the war, and were a great nuisance on a
march, foraging far and wide for "prog" for their owners' messes. To
abate this, they had been put under discipline and made to march in rear
of the regiments to which they pertained. They were now, some scores,
assembled under a large tree, laughing, chattering, and cooking
breakfast. On a sudden, a shell burst in the tree-top, rattling down
leaves and branches in fine style, and the rapid decampment of the
servitors was most amusing. But I must pause to give an account of my
own servant, Tom Strother, who deserves honorable and affectionate
mention at my hands, and serves to illustrate a phase of Southern life
now passed away.

As under feudal institutions the arms of heiresses were quartered with
those of the families into which they married, in the South their slaves
adopted the surname of the mistress; and one curious in genealogy could
trace the descent and alliances of an old family by finding out the
names used by different slaves on the estate. Those of the same name
were a little clannish, preserving traditions of the family from which
their fathers had come, and magnifying its importance. In childhood I
often listened with credulous ears to wondrous tales of the magnificence
of my forefathers in Virginia and Maryland, who, these imaginative
Africans insisted, dwelt in palaces, surrounded by brave, handsome sons,
lovely, virtuous daughters, and countless devoted servants. The
characters of many Southern children were doubtless influenced by such
tales, impressive from the good faith of the narrators. My paternal
grandmother was Miss Sarah Strother of Virginia, and from her estate
came these Strother negroes. Tom, three years my senior, was my foster
brother and early playmate. His uncle, Charles Porter Strother (to give
him his full name), had been body servant to my grandfather, Colonel
Richard Taylor, whom he attended in his last illness. He then filled the
same office to my father, following him through his Indian and Mexican
campaigns, and dying at Washington a year before his master. Tom served
in Florida and Mexico as "aide-de-camp" to his uncle, after which he
married and became father of a large family. On this account I hesitated
to bring him to Virginia, but he would come, and was a model servant.
Tall, powerful, black as ebony, he was a mirror of truth and honesty.
Always cheerful, I never heard him laugh or knew of his speaking unless
spoken to. He could light a fire in a minute under the most unfavorable
conditions and with the most unpromising material, made the best coffee
to be tasted outside of a creole kitchen, was a "dab" at camp stews and
roasts, groomed my horses (one of which he rode near me), washed my
linen, and was never behind time. Occasionally, when camped near a
house, he would obtain starch and flat-irons, and get up my extra shirt
in a way to excite the envy of a professional clear-starcher; but such
red-letter days were few.

I used to fancy that there was a mute sympathy between General Jackson
and Tom, as they sat silent by a camp fire, the latter respectfully
withdrawn; and an incident here at Strasburg cemented this friendship.
When my command was called into action, I left Tom on a hill where all
was quiet. Thereafter, from a change in the enemy's dispositions, the
place became rather hot, and Jackson, passing by, advised Tom to move;
but he replied, if the General pleased, his master told him to stay
there and would know where to find him, and he did not believe shells
would trouble him. Two or three nights later, Jackson was at my fire
when Tom came to give me some coffee; where upon Jackson rose and
gravely shook him by the hand, and then told me the above.

After the war was closed, Tom returned with me to New Orleans, found his
wife and children all right, and is now prosperous. My readers have had
so much fighting lately, and are about to have so much more, as to
render unnecessary an apology for introducing Tom's history.

To return. Cannonading continued without much effect, and Ewell summoned
me to his presence, directing the brigade to remain in position till
further orders. Jackson, busy with his trains, was not at the moment on
the field, which he visited several times during the day, though I did
not happen to see him. To reach Ewell, it was necessary to pass under
some heavy shelling, and I found myself open to the reproach visited
previously on my men. Whether from fatigue, loss of sleep, or what,
there I was, nervous as a lady, ducking like a mandarin. It was
disgusting, and, hoping that no one saw me, I resolved to take it out of
myself the first opportunity. There is a story of Turenne, the greatest
soldier of the Bourbons, which, if not true, is _ben trovato_. Of a
nervous temperament, his legs on the eve of an action trembled to such
an extent as to make it difficult to mount his horse. Looking at them
contemptuously, he said: "If you could foresee the danger into which I
am going to take you, you would tremble more." It was with a similar
feeling, not only for my legs, but for my entire carcass, that I reached
Ewell, and told him I was no more good than a frightened deer. He
laughed, and replied: "Nonsense! 'tis Tom's strong coffee. Better give
it up. Remain here in charge while I go out to the skirmishers. I can't
make out what these people are about, for my skirmish line has stopped
them. They won't advance, but stay out there in the wood, making a great
fuss with their guns; and I do not wish to commit myself to much advance
while Jackson is absent." With this, he put spurs to his horse and was
off, and soon a brisk fusillade was heard, which seemed gradually to
recede. During Ewell's absence, surrounded by his staff, I contrived to
sit my horse quietly. Returning, he said: "I am completely puzzled. I
have just driven everything back to the main body, which is large. Dense
wood everywhere. Jackson told me not to commit myself too far. At this
rate my attentions are not likely to become serious enough to commit any
one. I wish Jackson was here himself." I suggested that my brigade might
be moved to the extreme right, near the Capon road, by which Fremont had
marched, and attempt to strike that road, as this would enable us to
find out something. He replied: "Do so; that may stir them up, and I am
sick of this fiddling about." Had Ewell been in command, he would have
"pitched in" long before; but he was controlled by instructions not to
be drawn too far from the pike.

We found the right of our line held by a Mississippi regiment, the
colonel of which told me that he had advanced just before and driven the
enemy. Several of his men were wounded, and he was bleeding profusely
from a hit in his leg, which he was engaged in binding with a
handkerchief, remarking that "it did not pester him much." Learning our
purpose, he was eager to go in with us, and was not at all pleased to
hear that I declined to change General Ewell's dispositions. A plucky
fellow, this colonel, whose name, if ever known, I cannot recall. The
brigade moved forward until the enemy was reached, when, wheeling to the
left, it walked down his line. The expression is used advisedly, for it
was nothing but a "walk-over." Sheep would have made as much resistance
as we met. Men decamped without firing, or threw down their arms and
surrendered, and it was so easy that I began to think of traps. At
length we got under fire from our own skirmishers, and suffered some
casualties, the only ones received in the movement.

Our whole skirmish line was advancing briskly as the Federals retired. I
sought Ewell, and reported. We had a fine game before us, and the
temptation to play it was great; but Jackson's orders were imperative
and wise. He had his stores to save, Shields to guard against, Lee's
grand strategy to promote; and all this he accomplished, alarming
Washington, fastening McDowell's strong corps at Fredericksburg and
preventing its junction with McClellan, on whose right flank he
subsequently threw himself at Cold Harbor. He could not waste time
chasing Fremont, but we, who looked from a lower standpoint, grumbled
and shared the men's opinion about the _lemon wagons_.

The prisoners taken in our promenade were Germans, speaking no English;
and we had a similar experience a few days later. In the Federal Army
was a German corps, the 11th, commanded by General O.O. Howard, and
called by both sides "the Flying Dutchmen." Since the time of Arminius
the Germans have been a brave people; to-day, in military renown, they
lead the van of the nations; but they require a cause and leaders. In
our Revolutionary struggle the Hessians were unfortunate at Bennington,
Saratoga, and Trenton. We have millions of German citizens, and
excellent citizens they are. Let us hope that the foregoing facts may be
commended to them, so their ways may be ways of peace in their adopted
land.

Although the movement along the enemy's line was successful, as
described, it was rash and foolish. Fremont had troops which, had they
been in the place of these Germans, would have made us pass one of
Rabelais's unpleasant quarters of an hour. Alarm and disgust at my own
nervousness occasioned it, proving weak nerves to be the source of rash
acts.

Fremont made no further sign, and as the day declined the army was
recalled to the pike and marched south. Jackson, in person, gave me
instructions to draw up my brigade facing west, on some hills above the
pike, and distant from it several hundred yards, where I was to remain.
He said that the road was crowded, and he wanted time to clear it, that
Fremont was safe for the night, and our cavalry toward Winchester
reported Banks returned to that place from the Potomac, but not likely
to move south before the following day; then rode off, and so rapidly as
to give me no time to inquire how long I was to remain, or if the
cavalry would advise me in the event that Banks changed his purpose.
This was near sunset, and by the time the command was in position
darkness fell upon us. No fires were allowed, and, stacking arms, the
men rested, munching cold rations from their haversacks. It was their
first opportunity for a bite since early morning.

I threw myself on the ground, and tried in vain to sleep. No sound could
be heard save the clattering of hoofs on the pike, which as the night
wore on became constant. Hour after hour passed, when, thinking I heard
firing to the north, I mounted and looked for the pike. The darkness was
so intense that it could not have been found but for the white
limestone. Some mounted men were passing, whom I halted to question.
They said their command had gone on to rejoin the army, and, they
supposed, had missed me in the dark; but there was a squadron behind,
near the enemy's advance, which, a large cavalry force, had moved from
Winchester at an early period of the day and driven our people south.
This was pleasant; for Winder's brigade had marched several hours since,
and a wide interval existed between us.

More firing, near and distinct, was heard, and the command was ordered
down to the pike, which it reached after much stumbling and swearing,
and some confusion. Fortunately, the battery, Captain Bowyer, had been
sent forward at dusk to get forage, and an orderly was dispatched to put
it on the march. The 6th (Irish) regiment was in rear, and I took two
companies for a rear guard. The column had scarce got into motion before
a party of horse rushed through the guard, knocking down several men,
one of whom was severely bruised. There was a little pistol-shooting and
sabre-hacking, and for some minutes things were rather mixed. The
enemy's cavalry had charged ours, and driven it on the infantry. One
Federal was captured and his horse given to the bruised man, who
congratulated the rider on his promotion to a respectable service. I
dismounted, gave my horse to Tom to lead, and marched with the guard.
From time to time the enemy would charge, but we could hear him coming
and be ready. The guard would halt, about face, front rank with fixed
bayonets kneel, rear rank fire, when, by the light of the flash, we
could see emptied saddles. Our pursuers' fire was wild, passing over
head; so we had few casualties, and these slight; but they were bold and
enterprising, and well led, often charging close up to the bayonets. I
remarked this, whereupon the Irishmen answered, "Devil thank 'em for
that same." There was no danger on the flanks. The white of the pike
alone guided us. Owls could not have found their way across the fields.
The face of the country has been described as a succession of rolling
swells, and later the enemy got up guns, but always fired from the
summits, so that his shells passed far above us, exploding in the
fields. Had the guns been trained low, with canister, it might have
proved uncomfortable, for the pike ran straight to the south. "It was a
fine night intirely for divarsion," said the Irishmen, with which
sentiment I did not agree; but they were as steady as clocks and chirpy
as crickets, indulging in many a jest whenever the attentions of our
friends in the rear were slackened. They had heard of Shields's
proximity, and knew him to be an Irishman by birth, and that he had
Irish regiments with him. During an interlude I was asked if it was not
probable that we would encounter Shields, and answering affirmatively,
heard: "Them Germans is poor creatures, but Shields's boys will be after
fighting." Expressing a belief that my "boys" could match Shields's any
day, I received loud assurance from half a hundred Tipperary throats:
"You may bet your life on that, sor." Thus we beguiled the weary hours.
During the night I desired to relieve the guard, but was diverted from
my purpose by scornful howls of "We are the boys to see it out." As
Argyle's to the tartan, my heart has warmed to an Irishman since that
night.

Daylight came, and I tried to brace myself for hotter work, when a body
of troops was reported in position to the south of my column. This
proved to be Charles Winder with his (formerly Jackson's own) brigade.
An accomplished soldier and true brother-in-arms, he had heard the
enemy's guns during the night, and, knowing me to be in rear, halted and
formed line to await me. His men were fed and rested, and he insisted on
taking my place in the rear. Passing through Winder's line, we moved
slowly, with frequent halts, so as to remain near, the enemy pressing
hard during the morning. The day was uncommonly hot, the sun like fire,
and water scarce along the road; and our men suffered greatly.

Just after midday my brisk young aide, Hamilton, whom I had left with
Winder to bring early intelligence, came to report that officer in
trouble and want of assistance. My men were so jaded as to make me
unwilling to retrace ground if it could be avoided; so they were ordered
to form line on the crest of the slope at hand, and I went to Winder, a
mile to the rear. His brigade, renowned as the "Stonewall," was deployed
on both sides of the pike, on which he had four guns. Large masses of
cavalry, with guns and some sharp-shooters, were pressing him closely,
while far to the north clouds of dust marked the approach of troops. His
line was on one of the many swells crossing the pike at right angles,
and a gentle slope led to the next crest south, beyond which my brigade
was forming. The problem was to retire without giving the enemy, eager
and persistent, an opportunity to charge. The situation looked so blue
that I offered to move back my command; but Winder thought he could pull
through, and splendidly did he accomplish it. Regiment by regiment, gun
by gun, the brigade was withdrawn, always checking the enemy, though
boldly led. Winder, cool as a professor playing the new German game,
directed every movement in person, and the men were worthy of him and of
their first commander, Jackson. It was very close work in the vale
before he reached the next crest, and heavy volleys were necessary to
stay our plucky foes; but, once there, my command showed so strong as to
impress the enemy, who halted to reconnoiter, and the two brigades were
united without further trouble.

The position was good, my battery was at hand, and our men were so
fatigued that we debated whether it was not more comfortable to fight
than retreat. We could hold the ground for hours against cavalry, and
night would probably come before infantry got up, while retreat was
certain to bring the cavalry on us. At this juncture up came General
Turner Ashby, followed by a considerable force of horse, with guns. This
officer had been engaged in destroying bridges in Luray Valley, to
prevent Shields from crossing that branch of the Shenandoah, and now
came, much to our satisfaction, to take charge of the rear. He proceeded
to pay his respects to our friends, and soon took them off our hands. We
remained an hour to rest the men and give Ashby time to make his
dispositions, then moved on.

Before sunset heavy clouds gathered, and the intense heat was broken by
a regular downpour, in the midst of which we crossed the bridge over the
west branch of the Shenandoah--a large stream--at Mount Jackson, and
camped. There was not a dry thread about my person, and my boots would
have furnished a respectable bath. Notwithstanding the flood, Tom soon
had a fire, and was off to hunt forage for man and beast. Here we were
less than ten miles from Newmarket, between which and this point the
army was camped. Jackson was easy about Massanutten Gap. Shields must
march south of the mountain to reach him, while the river, just crossed,
was now impassable except by bridge.

We remained thirty-six hours in this camp, from the evening of the 2d
until the morning of the 4th of June--a welcome rest to all. Two days of
light marching carried us thence to Harrisonburg, thirty miles. Here
Jackson quitted the pike leading to Staunton, and took the road to Port
Republic. This village, twelve miles southeast of Harrisonburg, lies at
the base of the Blue Ridge, on the east bank of the Shenandoah. Several
streams unite here to form the east (locally called south) branch of
that river; and here too was the only bridge from Front Royal south, all
others having been destroyed by Ashby to prevent Shields from crossing.
This commander was pushing a part of his force south, from Front Royal
and Luray, on the east bank.

The army passed the night of June 5 in camp three miles from
Harrisonburg toward Port Republic. Ewell's division, which I had
rejoined for the first time since we met Jackson, was in rear; and the
rear brigade was General George Stewart's, composed of one Maryland and
two Virginia regiments. My command was immediately in advance of
Stewart's. Ashby had burnt the bridge at Mount Jackson to delay Fremont,
and was camped with his horse in advance of Harrisonburg. The road to
Port Republic was heavy from recent rains, causing much delay to trains,
so that we did not move on the morning of the 6th. Early in the day
Fremont, reenforced from Banks, got up; and his cavalry, vigorously led,
pushed Ashby through Harrisonburg, where a sharp action occurred,
resulting in the capture of many Federals--among others, Colonel Percy
Wyndham, commanding brigade, whose meeting with Major Wheat has been
described. Later, while Ewell was conversing with me, a message from
Ashby took him to the rear. Federal cavalry, supported by infantry, was
advancing on Ashby. Stewart's brigade was lying in a wood, under cover
of which Ewell placed it in position. A severe struggle ensued; the
enemy was driven, and many prisoners were taken. I had ridden back with
Ewell, and so witnessed the affair, uncommonly spirited, and creditable
to both sides. Colonel Kane of Philadelphia was among the prisoners and
painfully wounded. Having known his father, Judge Kane, as well as his
brother, the Arctic explorer, I solicited and obtained from Jackson his
parole.

Colonel Nicholls, left wounded near Winchester, had married a short time
previous to the war, and his young wife now appeared, seeking to join
her husband. Jackson referred her request to Ewell, who passed it to me.
Of this I was informed by Captain Nicholls, 8th regiment, brother to the
colonel, killed a few days after at Cold Harbor. Much cavalry
skirmishing was still going on around Harrisonburg, dangerous for a lady
to pass through; and besides, she had come from Port Republic, seen our
situation, and might be indiscreet. These considerations were stated to
Captain Nicholls, but his sister-in-law insisted on seeing me. A small,
fairy-like creature, plucky as a "Dandie Dinmont" terrier, and with a
heart as big as Massanutten, she was seated in a nondescript trap, drawn
by two mules, driven by a negro. One look from the great, tearful eyes
made of me an abject coward, and I basely shuffled the refusal to let
her pass on to Jackson. The Parthian glance of contempt that reached me
through her tears showed that the lady understood and despised my
paltering. Nicholls was speedily exchanged, became a general officer,
lost a foot at Chancellorsville, and, after leading his people up out of
captivity, is now the conservative Governor of Louisiana.

The skirmishing spoken of in the above connection developed into severe
work, in which General Ashby was killed. Alluding to his death in an
official report, Jackson says, "As a partisan officer I never knew his
superior." Like Claverhouse, "with a face that painters loved to limn
and ladies look upon," he was the most daring and accomplished rider in
a region of horsemen. His courage was so brilliant as to elicit applause
from friend and foe, but he was without capacity or disposition to
enforce discipline on his men. I witnessed his deep chagrin at the
conduct of our troopers after the enemy had been driven from Winchester
in May. With proper organization and discipline, his bold riders under
his lead might have accomplished all that the lamented Nolan claimed as
possible for light cavalry. Popular imagination, especially the female,
is much in error as to these matters. Graceful young cavaliers, with
flowing locks, leaping cannon to saber countless foes, make a
captivating picture. In the language of Bosquet, "'Tis beautiful, but
'tis not war"; and grave mishaps have been occasioned by this
misconception. Valor is as necessary now as ever in war, but
disciplined, subordinated valor, admitting the courage and energies of
all to be welded and directed to a common end. It is much to be desired
that the ladies would consent to correct their opinions; for, after all,
their approval stimulates our best fighting.

On the 7th of June we marched to a place within four miles of Port
Republic, called Cross Keys, where several roads met. Near at hand was
the meeting-house of a sect of German Quakers, Tunkers or Dunkards, as
they are indifferently named. Here Jackson determined to await and fight
Fremont, who followed him hard; but as a part of Shields's force was now
unpleasantly near, he pushed on to Port Republic with Winder's and other
infantry, and a battery, which camped on the hither bank of the river.
Jackson himself, with his staff and a mounted escort, crossed the bridge
and passed the night in the village.

Ewell, in immediate charge at Cross Keys, was ready early in the morning
of the 8th, when Fremont attacked. The ground was undulating, with much
wood, and no extended view could be had. In my front the attack, if such
it could be called, was feeble in the extreme--an affair of skirmishers,
in which the enemy yielded to the slightest pressure. A staff officer of
Jackson's, in hot haste, came with orders from his chief to march my
brigade double-quick to Port Republic. Elzey's brigade, in second line
to the rear, was asked to take my place and relieve my skirmishers;
then, advising the staff officer to notify Ewell, whom he had not seen,
we started on the run, for such a message from Jackson meant business.
Two of the intervening miles were quickly passed, when another officer
appeared with orders to halt. In half an hour, during which the sound of
battle at Cross Keys thickened, Jackson came. As before stated, he had
passed the night in the village, with his staff and escort. Up as usual
at dawn, he started alone to recross the bridge, leaving his people to
follow. The bridge was a few yards below the last house in the village,
and some mist overhung the river. Under cover of this a small body of
horse, with one gun, from Shields's forces, had reached the east end of
the bridge and trained the gun on it. Jackson was within an ace of
capture. As he spurred across, the gun was fired on him, but without
effect, and the sound brought up staff and escort, when the horse
retired north. This incident occasioned the order to me. After relating
it (all save his own danger), Jackson passed on to Ewell. Thither I
followed, to remain in reserve until the general forward movement in the
afternoon, by which Fremont was driven back with loss of prisoners. We
did not persist far, as Shields's force was near upon us. From Ewell I
learned that there had been some pretty fighting in the morning, though
less than might have been expected from Fremont's numbers. I know not if
the presence of this commander had a benumbing influence on his troops,
but certainly his advanced cavalry and infantry had proved bold and
enterprising.

In the evening we moved to the river and camped. Winder's and other
brigades crossed the bridge, and during the night Ewell, with most of
the army, drew near, leaving Trimble's brigade and the horse at Cross
Keys. No one apprehended another advance by Fremont. The following
morning, Sunday, June 9, my command passed the bridge, moved several
hundred yards down the road, and halted. Our trains had gone east over
the Blue Ridge. The sun appeared above the mountain while the men were
quietly breakfasting. Suddenly, from below, was heard the din of
battle, loud and sustained, artillery and small arms. The men sprang
into ranks, formed column, and marched, and I galloped forward a short
mile to see the following scene:

From the mountain, clothed to its base with undergrowth and timber, a
level--clear, open, and smooth--extended to the river. This plain was
some thousand yards in width. Half a mile north, a gorge, through which
flowed a small stream, cut the mountain at a right angle. The northern
shoulder of this gorge projected farther into the plain than the
southern, and on an elevated plateau of the shoulder were placed six
guns, sweeping every inch of the plain to the south. Federal lines,
their right touching the river, were advancing steadily, with banners
flying and arms gleaming in the sun. A gallant show, they came on.
Winder's and another brigade, with a battery, opposed them. This small
force was suffering cruelly, and its skirmishers were driven in on their
thin supporting line. As my Irishmen predicted, "Shields's boys were
after fighting." Below, Ewell was hurrying his men over the bridge, but
it looked as if we should be doubled up on him ere he could cross and
develop much strength. Jackson was on the road, a little in advance of
his line, where the fire was hottest, with reins on his horse's neck,
seemingly in prayer. Attracted by my approach, he said, in his usual
voice, "Delightful excitement." I replied that it was pleasant to learn
he was enjoying himself, but thought he might have an indigestion of
such fun if the six-gun battery was not silenced. He summoned a young
officer from his staff, and pointed up the mountain. The head of my
approaching column was turned short up the slope, and speedily came to a
path running parallel with the river. We took this path, the guide
leading the way. From him I learned that the plateau occupied by the
battery had been used for a charcoal kiln, and the path we were
following, made by the burners in hauling wood, came upon the gorge
opposite the battery. Moving briskly, we reached the hither side a few
yards from the guns. Infantry was posted near, and riflemen were in the
undergrowth on the slope above. Our approach, masked by timber, was
unexpected. The battery was firing rapidly, enabled from elevation to
fire over the advancing lines. The head of my column began to deploy
under cover for attack, when the sounds of battle to our rear appeared
to recede, and a loud Federal cheer was heard, proving Jackson to be
hard pressed. It was rather an anxious moment, demanding instant action.
Leaving a staff officer to direct my rear regiment--the 7th, Colonel
Hays--to form in the wood as a reserve, I ordered the attack, though the
deployment was not completed, and our rapid march by a narrow path had
occasioned some disorder. With a rush and shout the gorge was passed and
we were in the battery. Surprise had aided us, but the enemy's infantry
rallied in a moment and drove us out. We returned, to be driven a second
time. The riflemen on the slope worried us no little, and two companies
of the 9th regiment were sent up the gorge to gain ground above and
dislodge them, which was accomplished. The fighting in and around the
battery was hand to hand, and many fell from bayonet wounds. Even the
artillerymen used their rammers in a way not laid down in the Manual,
and died at their guns. As Conan said to the devil, "'Twas claw for
claw." I called for Hays, but he, the promptest of men, and his splendid
regiment, could not be found. Something unexpected had occurred, but
there was no time for speculation. With a desperate rally, in which I
believe the drummer-boys shared, we carried the battery for the third
time, and held it. Infantry and riflemen had been driven off, and we
began to feel a little comfortable, when the enemy, arrested in his
advance by our attack, appeared. He had countermarched, and, with left
near the river, came into full view of our situation. Wheeling to the
right, with colors advanced, like a solid wall he marched straight upon
us. There seemed nothing left but to set our backs to the mountain and
die hard. At the instant, crashing through the underwood, came Ewell,
outriding staff and escort. He produced the effect of a reenforcement,
and was welcomed with cheers. The line before us halted and threw
forward skirmishers. A moment later, a shell came shrieking along it,
loud Confederate cheers reached our delighted ears, and Jackson, freed
from his toils, rushed up like a whirlwind, the enemy in rapid retreat.
We turned the captured guns on them as they passed, Ewell serving as a
gunner. Though rapid, the retreat never became a rout. Fortune had
refused her smiles, but Shields's brave "boys" preserved their
organization and were formidable to the last; and had Shields himself,
with his whole command, been on the field, we should have had tough work
indeed.

Jackson came up, with intense light in his eyes, grasped my hand, and
said the brigade should have the captured battery. I thought the men
would go mad with cheering, especially the Irishmen. A huge fellow, with
one eye closed and half his whiskers burned by powder, was riding
cock-horse on a gun, and, catching my attention, yelled out, "We told
you to bet on your boys." Their success against brother Patlanders
seemed doubly welcome. Strange people, these Irish! Fighting every one's
battles, and cheerfully taking the hot end of the poker, they are only
found wanting when engaged in what they believe to be their national
cause. Excepting the defense of Limerick under brilliant Sarsfield, I
recall no domestic struggle in which they have shown their worth.

While Jackson pursued the enemy without much effect, as his cavalry,
left in front of Fremont, could not get over till late, we attended to
the wounded and performed the last offices to the dead, our own and the
Federal. I have never seen so many dead and wounded in the same limited
space. A large farmhouse on the plain, opposite the mouth of the gorge,
was converted into a hospital. Ere long my lost 7th regiment, sadly cut
up, rejoined. This regiment was in rear of the column when we left
Jackson to gain the path in the woods, and before it filed out of the
road his thin line was so pressed that Jackson ordered Hays to stop the
enemy's rush. This was done, for the 7th would have stopped a herd of
elephants, but at a fearful cost. Colonel Hays was severely wounded,
among many others, and the number of killed was large. Upon my promotion
to Major-General, Hays succeeded to the command of the brigade, served
through the war, returned to the practice of the law, and died in New
Orleans. He was brother to Colonel Jack Hays, formerly of Texas, now of
California, and shared much of the fighting ability of that renowned
partisan.

The young officer who guided us through the wood deserves mention, as he
was one of the first to reach the battery, where he was killed.
Lieutenant English, near Harper's Ferry, Virginia, proved to be his name
and place of birth.

Many hours passed in discharge of sad duties to the wounded and dead,
during which Fremont appeared on the opposite bank of the river and
opened his guns; but, observing doubtless our occupation, he ceased his
fire, and after a short time withdrew. It may be added here that Jackson
had caused such alarm at Washington as to start Milroy, Banks, Fremont,
and Shields toward that capital, and the great valley was cleared of the
enemy.

We passed the night high up the mountain, where we moved to reach our
supply wagons. A cold rain was falling, and before we found them every
one was tired and famished. I rather took it out of the train-master for
pushing so far up, although I had lunched comfortably from the haversack
of a dead Federal. It is not pleasant to think of now, but war _is_ a
little hardening.

On the 12th of June the army moved down to the river, above Port
Republic, where the valley was wide, with many trees, and no enemy to
worry or make us afraid. Here closed Jackson's wonderful Valley campaign
of 1862.[3]

[Footnote 3: A part of the foregoing text was published in the number of
the "North American Review" for March, 1878, under the title of
"Stonewall Jackson and the Valley Campaign." In a kind and friendly
letter, dated New York, March 21, General Shields corrects some
misapprehensions into which I had fallen, more especially concerning his
_personal_ connection with the events described. I had been unable to
procure a copy of General Shields's report, which, he informs me in the
same letter, was suppressed by Secretary Stanton.]

The Louisiana brigade marched from its camp near Conrad's store, to
join Jackson at Newmarket, on the 21st of May. In twenty days it marched
over two hundred miles, fought in five actions, of which three were
severe, and several skirmishes, and, though it had suffered heavy loss
in officers and men, was yet strong, hard as nails, and full of
confidence. I have felt it a duty to set forth the achievements of the
brigade, than which no man ever led braver into action, in their proper
light, because such reputation as I gained in this campaign is to be
ascribed to its excellence.

For the first time since several weeks, friend Ewell and I had a chance
to renew our talks; but events soon parted us again. Subsequently he was
wounded in the knee at the second battle of Manassas, and suffered
amputation of the leg in consequence. His absence of mind nearly proved
fatal. Forgetting his condition, he suddenly started to walk, came down
on the stump, imperfectly healed, and produced violent haemorrhage.

About the close of the war he married Mrs. Brown, a widow, and daughter
of Judge Campbell, a distinguished citizen of Tennessee, who had
represented the United States at the court of St. Petersburg, where this
lady was born. She was a kinswoman of Ewell, and said to have been his
early love. He brought her to New Orleans in 1866, where I hastened to
see him. He took me by the hand and presented me to "my wife, Mrs.
Brown." How well I remember our chat! How he talked of his plans and
hopes and happiness, and of his great lot of books, which he was afraid
he would never be able to read through. The while "my wife, Mrs. Brown,"
sat by, handsome as a picture, smiling on her General, as well she
might, so noble a gentleman. A few short years, and both he and his wife
passed away within an hour of each other; but his last years were made
happy by her companionship, and comfortable by the wealth she had
brought him. Dear Dick Ewell! Virginia never bred a truer gentleman, a
braver soldier, nor an odder, more lovable fellow.

On the second day in this camp General Winder came to me and said that
he had asked leave to go to Richmond, been refused, and resigned. He
commanded Jackson's old brigade, and was aggrieved by some unjust
interference. Holding Winder in high esteem, I hoped to save him to the
army, and went to Jackson, to whose magnanimity I appealed, and to
arouse this dwelt on the rich harvest of glory he had reaped in his
brilliant campaign. Observing him closely, I caught a glimpse of the
man's inner nature. It was but a glimpse. The curtain closed, and he was
absorbed in prayer. Yet in that moment I saw an ambition boundless as
Cromwell's, and as merciless. This latter quality was exhibited in his
treatment of General Richard Garnett, cousin to Robert Garnett, before
mentioned, and his codisciple at West Point. I have never met officer or
soldier, present at Kernstown, who failed to condemn the harsh treatment
of Garnett after that action. Richard Garnett was subsequently restored
to command at my instance near Jackson, and fell on the field of
Gettysburg.

No reply was made to my effort for Winder, and I rose to take my leave,
when Jackson said he would ride with me. We passed silently along the
way to my camp, where he left me. That night a few lines came from
Winder, to inform me that Jackson had called on him, and his resignation
was withdrawn.

Charles Winder was born in Maryland, graduated at West Point in 1850,
embarked soon thereafter for California in charge of a detachment of
recruits, was wrecked on the coast, and saved his men by his coolness
and energy. He left the United States army to join the Confederacy, and
was killed at Cedar Run some weeks after this period. Had he lived, he
would have reached and adorned high position.

And now a great weariness and depression fell upon me. I was threatened
with a return of the illness experienced the previous autumn. For many
weeks I had received no intelligence from my family. New Orleans had
fallen, and my wife and children resided there or on an estate near the
city. I hoped to learn of them at Richmond; change might benefit health,
and matters were quiet in the Valley. Accordingly, a short leave was
asked for and granted; and although I returned within three days to join
my command on the march to Cold Harbor, we were absorbed in the larger
army operating against McClellan, and I saw but little of Jackson.

I have written that he was ambitious; and his ambition was vast,
all-absorbing. Like the unhappy wretch from whose shoulders sprang the
foul serpent, he loathed it, perhaps feared it; but he could not escape
it--it was himself--nor rend it--it was his own flesh. He fought it with
prayer, constant and earnest--Apollyon and Christian in ceaseless
combat. What limit to set to his ability I know not, for he was ever
superior to occasion. Under ordinary circumstances it was difficult to
estimate him because of his peculiarities--peculiarities that would have
made a lesser man absurd, but that served to enhance his martial fame,
as those of Samuel Johnson did his literary eminence. He once observed,
in reply to an allusion to his severe marching, that it was better to
lose one man in marching than five in fighting; and, acting on this, he
invariably surprised the enemy--Milroy at McDowell, Banks and Fremont in
the Valley, McClellan's right at Cold Harbor, Pope at second Manassas.

Fortunate in his death, he fell at the summit of glory, before the sun
of the Confederacy had set, ere defeat, and suffering, and selfishness
could turn their fangs upon him. As one man, the South wept for him;
foreign nations shared the grief; even Federals praised him. With Wolfe
and Nelson and Havelock, he took his place in the hearts of
English-speaking peoples.

In the first years of this century, a great battle was fought on the
plains of the Danube. A determined charge on the Austrian center gained
the victory for France. The courage and example of a private soldier,
who there fell, contributed much to the success of the charge. Ever
after, at the parades of his battalion, the name of Latour d'Auvergne
was first called, when the oldest sergeant stepped to the front and
answered, "Died on the field of honor." In Valhalla, beyond the grave,
where spirits of warriors assemble, when on the roll of heroes the name
of Jackson is reached, it will be for the majestic shade of Lee to
pronounce the highest eulogy known to our race--"Died on the field of
duty."

I reached Richmond, by Charlottesville and Lynchburg, the day after
leaving camp, and went to the war office, where I found letters from my
family. My wife and children had left New Orleans on a steamer just as
Farragut's fleet arrived, and were on the Atchafalaya River with
friends, all well. While reading my letters, an acquaintance in high
position in the office greeted me, but went on to say, if I knew what
was afoot, my stay in Richmond would be short. Taking the hint, and
feeling improved in health in consequence of relief from anxiety about
my family, I returned to the station at once, and took rail to
Charlottesville. Arrived there, I met the Valley army in march to the
southeast, and joined my command.

That night we camped between Charlottesville and Gordonsville, in Orange
County, the birthplace of my father. A distant kinsman, whom I had never
met, came to invite me to his house in the neighborhood. Learning that I
always slept in camp, he seemed so much distressed as to get my consent
to breakfast with him, if he would engage to have breakfast at the
barbarous hour of sunrise. His house was a little distant from the road;
so, the following morning, he sent a mounted groom to show the way. My
aide, young Hamilton, accompanied me, and Tom of course followed. It was
a fine old mansion, surrounded by well-kept grounds. This immediate
region had not yet been touched by war. Flowering plants and rose trees,
in full bloom, attested the glorious wealth of June. On the broad
portico, to welcome us, stood the host, with his fresh, charming wife,
and, a little retired, a white-headed butler. Greetings over with host
and lady, this delightful creature, with ebon face beaming hospitality,
advanced, holding a salver, on which rested a huge silver goblet filled
with Virginia's nectar, mint julep. Quantities of cracked ice rattled
refreshingly in the goblet; sprigs of fragrant mint peered above its
broad rim; a mass of white sugar, too sweetly indolent to melt, rested
on the mint; and, like rose buds on a snow bank, luscious strawberries
crowned the sugar. Ah! that julep! Mars ne'er received such tipple from
the hands of Ganymede. Breakfast was announced, and what a breakfast! A
beautiful service, snowy table cloth, damask napkins, long unknown;
above all, a lovely woman in crisp gown, with more and handsomer roses
on her cheek than in her garden. 'Twas an idyl in the midst of the stern
realities of war! The table groaned beneath its viands. Sable servitors
brought in, hot and hot from the kitchen, cakes of wondrous forms,
inventions of the tropical imagination of Africa, inflamed by Virginian
hospitality. I was rather a moderate trencherman, but the performance of
Hamilton was Gargantuan, alarming. Duty dragged us from this Eden; yet
in hurried adieus I did not forget to claim of the fair hostess the
privilege of a cousin. I watched Hamilton narrowly for a time. The youth
wore a sodden, apoplectic look, quite out of his usual brisk form. A
gallop of some miles put him right, but for many days he dilated on the
breakfast with the gusto of one of Hannibal's veterans on the delights
of Capua.




CHAPTER VI.

"THE SEVEN DAYS AROUND RICHMOND."


Leaving Gordonsville, we proceeded in a southeasterly direction, passing
Louisa Court House and Frederickshall, and camped at Ashland on the
Fredericksburg Railway, twelve miles north of Richmond, on the evening
of the 25th of June. To deceive the enemy, General Lee had sent to the
Valley a considerable force under Generals Whiting, Hood, and Lawton.
The movement was openly made and speedily known at Washington, where it
produced the desired impression, that Jackson would invade Maryland from
the Valley. These troops reached Staunton by rail on the 17th, and,
without leaving the train, turned back to Gordonsville, where they
united with Jackson. The line from Gordonsville to Frederickshall, south
of which point it had been interrupted, was used to facilitate our
movement, but this was slow and uncertain. The advance frequently halted
or changed direction. We were pushing between McDowell and McClellan's
right, over ground recently occupied by the enemy. Bridges had been
destroyed, and, to conceal the movement, no guides were trusted--an
over-caution occasioning delay.

During the day and night of the 25th I suffered from severe pains in the
head and loins, and on the morning of the 26th found it impossible to
mount my horse; so the brigade marched under the senior colonel,
Seymour, 6th regiment. A small ambulance was left with me, and my staff
was directed to accompany Seymour and send back word if an engagement
was imminent. Several messages came during the day, the last after
nightfall, reporting the command to be camped near Pole Green Church,
beyond the Chickahominy; so far, no fighting. Lying on the floor of a
vacant house at Ashland, I had scarce consciousness to comprehend these
messages. Pains in head and back continued, with loss of power to move
my limbs.

Toward daylight of the 27th sleep came from exhaustion, and lasted some
hours. From this I was aroused by sounds of artillery, loud and
constant, brought by the easterly wind. Tom raised me into a sitting
posture, and administered a cup of strong coffee. The sound of battle
continued until it became unendurable, and I was put into the ambulance
by Tom and the driver, the former following with the horses. We took the
route by which the troops had marched, the din of conflict increasing
with every mile, the rattle of small arms mingling with the thud of
guns. After weary hours of rough road, every jolt on which threatened to
destroy my remaining vitality, we approached Cold Harbor and met numbers
of wounded. Among these was General Elzey, with a dreadful wound in the
head and face. His aide was taking him to the rear in an ambulance, and,
recognizing Tom, stopped a moment to tell of the fight. Ewell's
division, to which Elzey and I belonged, had just been engaged with
heavy loss. This was too much for any illness, and I managed somehow to
struggle on to my horse and get into the action.

It was a wild scene. Battle was raging furiously. Shot, shell, and ball
exploded and whistled. Hundreds of wounded were being carried off, while
the ground was strewn with dead. Dense thickets of small pines covered
much of the field, further obscured by clouds of smoke. The first troops
encountered were D.H. Hill's, and, making way through these, I came upon
Winder's, moving across the front from right to left. Then succeeded
Elzey's of Ewell's division, and, across the road leading to Gaines's
Mill, my own. Mangled and bleeding, as were all of Ewell's, it was
holding the ground it had won close to the enemy's line, but unable to
advance. The sun was setting as I joined, and at the moment cheers came
up from our left, raised by Winder's command, which had turned and was
sweeping the Federal right, while Lawton's Georgians, fresh and eager,
attacked in our front. The enemy gave way, and, under cover of the
night, retired over the Chickahominy. Firing continued for two hours,
though darkness concealed everything.

The loss in my command was distressing. Wheat, of whom I have written,
was gone, and Seymour, and many others. I had a wretched feeling of
guilt, especially about Seymour, who led the brigade and died in my
place. Colonel Seymour was born in Georgia, but had long resided in New
Orleans, where he edited the leading commercial paper--a man of culture,
respected of all. In early life he had served in Indian and Mexican
wars, and his high spirit brought him to this, though past middle age.
Brave old Seymour! I can see him now, mounting the hill at Winchester,
on foot, with sword and cap in hand, his thin gray locks streaming,
turning to his sturdy Irishmen with "Steady, men! dress to the right!"
Georgia has been fertile of worthies, but will produce none more
deserving than Colonel Seymour.

The following morning, while looking to the burial of the dead and care
of the wounded, I had an opportunity of examining the field of battle.
The campaign around Richmond is too well known to justify me in entering
into details, and I shall confine myself to events within my own
experience, only enlarging on such general features as are necessary to
explain criticism.

The Chickahominy, a sluggish stream and subject to floods, flows through
a low, marshy bottom, draining the country between the Pamunky or York
and James Rivers, into which last it discharges many miles below
Richmond. The upper portion of its course from the crossing of the
Central Railroad, six miles north of Richmond, to Long Bridge, some
three times that distance to the southeast, is parallel with both the
above-mentioned rivers. The bridges with which we were concerned at and
after Cold Harbor were the Federal military bridges, Grapevine, York
River Railroad, Bottom's, and Long, the lowermost; after which the
stream, affected by tide, spread over a marshy country. The upper or
Grapevine Bridge was on the road leading due south from Cold Harbor,
and, passing Savage's Station on York River Railroad, united with the
Williamsburg road, which ran east from Richmond to Bottom's Bridge. A
branch from this Williamsburg road continued on the south bank of the
Chickahominy to Long Bridge, where it joined the Charles City,
Darbytown, and Newmarket roads coming south-southeast from Richmond.
Many other roads, with no names or confusing ones, crossed this region,
which was densely wooded and intersected by sluggish streams, draining
the marshes into both the Chickahominy and James. We came upon two of
these country roads leading in quite different directions, but bearing
the same name, Grapevine; and it will astound advocates of phonics to
learn that the name of _Darby_ (whence Darbytown) was thus pronounced,
while it was spelt and written _Enroughty_. A German philologist might
have discovered, unaided, the connection between the sound and the
letters; but it would hardly have occurred to mortals of less erudition.

At the beginning of operations in this Richmond campaign, Lee had
seventy-five thousand men, McClellan one hundred thousand. Round numbers
are here given, but they are taken from official sources. A high opinion
has been expressed of the strategy of Lee, by which Jackson's forces
from the Valley were suddenly thrust between McDowell and McClellan's
right, and it deserves all praise; but the tactics on the field were
vastly inferior to the strategy. Indeed, it may be confidently asserted
that from Cold Harbor to Malvern Hill, inclusive, there was nothing but
a series of blunders, one after another, and all huge. The Confederate
commanders knew no more about the topography of the country than they
did about Central Africa. Here was a limited district, the whole of it
within a day's march of the city of Richmond, capital of Virginia and
the Confederacy, almost the first spot on the continent occupied by the
British race, the Chickahominy itself classic by legends of Captain John
Smith and Pocahontas; and yet we were profoundly ignorant of the
country, were without maps, sketches, or proper guides, and nearly as
helpless as if we had been suddenly transferred to the banks of the
Lualaba. The day before the battle of Malvern Hill, President Davis
could not find a guide with intelligence enough to show him the way
from one of our columns to another; and this fact I have from him.
People find a small cable in the middle of the ocean, a thousand fathoms
below the surface. For two days we lost McClellan's great army in a few
miles of woodland, and never had any definite knowledge of its
movements. Let it be remembered, too, that McClellan had opened the
peninsular campaign weeks before, indicating this very region to be the
necessary theatre of conflict; that the Confederate commander (up to the
time of his wound at Fair Oaks), General Johnston, had been a
topographical engineer in the United States army; while his successor,
General Lee--another engineer--had been on duty at the war office in
Richmond and in constant intercourse with President Davis, who was
educated at West Point and served seven years; and then think of our
ignorance in a military sense of the ground over which we were called to
fight. Every one must agree that it was amazing. Even now, I can
scarcely realize it. McClellan was as superior to us in knowledge of our
own land as were the Germans to the French in their late war, and owed
the success of his retreat to it, although credit must be given to his
ability. We had much praying at various headquarters, and large reliance
on special providences; but none were vouchsafed, by pillar of cloud or
fire, to supplement our ignorance; so we blundered on like people trying
to read without knowledge of their letters.

To return to the field of Cold Harbor, the morning (Saturday) after the
battle. McClellan had chosen an excellent position, covering his
military bridges over the Chickahominy. His left, resting on the river,
and his center were covered by a small stream, one of its affluents,
boggy and of difficult passage. His right was on high ground, near Cold
Harbor, in a dense thicket of pine-scrub, with artillery massed. This
position, three miles in extent, and enfiladed in front by heavy guns on
the south bank of the Chickahominy, was held by three lines of infantry,
one above the other on the rising ground, which was crowned with
numerous batteries, concealed by timber. McClellan reported thirty-six
thousand men present, including Sykes's and Porter's regulars; but
reenforcements brought over during the action probably increased this
number to fifty thousand. Lee had forty thousand on the field.

Longstreet attacked on our right, near the river, A.P. Hill on his left.
Jackson approached Cold Harbor from the north, his divisions in column
on one road as follows: Ewell's, Whiting's, Lawton's (Georgians), and
Winder's. At Cold Harbor Jackson united with the division of D.H. Hill,
in advance of him, and directed it to _find_ and attack the enemy's
right. His own divisions, in the order above named, were to come up on
D.H. Hill's right and connect it with A.P. Hill's left. Artillery was
only employed by the Confederates late in the day, and on their extreme
left.

D.H. Hill and Ewell were speedily engaged, and suffered heavily, as did
A.P. Hill and Longstreet, all attacking in front. Ignorance of the
ground, densely wooded, and want of guides occasioned confusion and
delay in the divisions to Ewell's rear. Lawton came to Ewell's support,
Whiting to A.P. Hill's; while of the three brigades of the last
division, the second went to Longstreet's right, the third to A.P.
Hill's center, and the first was taken by Winder, with a fine soldierly
instinct, from right to left, across the battle, to reenforce D.H. Hill
and turn the Federal position. This movement was decisive, and if
executed earlier would have saved loss of men and time. So much for
fighting on unknown ground.

During the day of Saturday, McClellan remained on the south bank of the
Chickahominy with guns in position guarding his bridges; and the only
movement made by Lee was to send Stuart's cavalry east to the river
terminus of the York Railway, and Ewell's division to the bridge of that
line over the Chickahominy and to Bottom's, a short distance below. Late
in the evening General Lee informed me that I would remain the following
day to guard Bottom's and the railway bridges, while Stuart's cavalry
watched the river below to Long Bridge and beyond. From all indications,
he thought that McClellan would withdraw during the night, and expected
to cross the river in the morning to unite with Magruder and Huger in
pursuit. Holmes's division was to be brought from the south side of the
James to bar the enemy's road; and he expressed some confidence that his
dispositions would inflict serious loss on McClellan's army, if he could
receive prompt and accurate information of that General's movements.
Meantime, I would remain until the following (Sunday) evening, unless
sooner convinced of the enemy's designs, when I would cross Grapevine
Bridge and follow Jackson. It is to be presumed that General Lee
disclosed so much of his plans to his subordinates as he deemed
necessary to insure their intelligent execution.

The morning light showed that the Federals had destroyed a part of the
railway bridge near the center of the stream. We were opposite to
Savage's Station (on the line toward Richmond), from which distinct
sounds reached us, but dense forest limited vision to the margin of the
river. Smoke rising above the trees, and explosions, indicated the
destruction of stores. In the afternoon, a great noise of battle
came--artillery, small arms, shouts. This, as we afterward learned, was
Magruder's engagement at Savage's Station, but this din of combat was
silenced to our ears by the following incident: A train was heard
approaching from Savage's. Gathering speed, it came rushing on, and
quickly emerged from the forest, two engines drawing a long string of
carriages. Reaching the bridge, the engines exploded with terrific
noise, followed in succession by explosions of the carriages, laden with
ammunition. Shells burst in all directions, the river was lashed into
foam, trees were torn for acres around, and several of my men were
wounded. The enemy had taken this means of destroying surplus
ammunition.

After this queer action had ceased, as sunset was approaching, and all
quiet at Bottom's Bridge, we moved up stream and crossed Grapevine
Bridge, repaired by Jackson earlier in the day. Darkness fell as we
bivouacked on the low ground south of the river. A heavy rain came down,
converting the ground into a lake, in the midst of which a half-drowned
courier, with a dispatch, was brought to me. With difficulty, underneath
an ambulance, a light was struck to read the dispatch, which proved to
be from Magruder, asking for reenforcements in front of Savage's
Station, where he was then engaged. Several hours had elapsed since the
courier left Magruder, and he could tell nothing beyond the fact of the
engagement, the noise of which we had heard. It must be borne in mind
that, during the operations north of the Chickahominy, the divisions of
Magruder and Huger had remained in position between McClellan's left and
Richmond.

In the night the enemy disappeared from Savage's, near which we passed
the following (Monday) morning, in march to rejoin Jackson. We
encountered troops of Magruder's, Huger's, and other divisions, seeking
to find their proper routes. Countless questions about roads were asked
in vain. At length, we discovered that Jackson had followed the one
nearest the Chickahominy, and about noon overtook the rear of his
column, halted in the road. Artillery could be heard in front, and a
staff officer was sent to find out the meaning of it.

Enfeebled by pain, I used an ambulance to husband my little strength for
emergencies; and I think it was here that General Wade Hampton,
accompanied by Senator Wigfall, came up to me. Hampton had been promoted
to brigadier for gallantry at Manassas, where he was wounded, but not
yet assigned to a command. Wigfall had left the army to take a seat in
the Confederate Congress as Senator from Texas, and from him I learned
that he was in hopes some brigadier would be killed to make a place for
Hampton, to whom, as volunteer aide, he proposed to attach himself and
see the fun. Finding me extended in an ambulance, he doubtless thought
he had met his opportunity, and felt aggrieved that I was not _in
extremis_. Hampton took command of a brigade in Jackson's old division
the next day, and perhaps his friend Wigfall enjoyed himself at Malvern
Hill.

The staff officer returned from the front and reported the situation.
D.H. Hill's division was at White Oak Swamp Creek, a slough, and one of
"despond" to us, draining to the Chickahominy. The enemy held the high
ground beyond, and artillery fire was continuous, but no infantry was
engaged. There was no change until nightfall, when we bivouacked where
we were. Our loss, _one_ artilleryman mortally wounded, proved that no
serious effort to pass the slough was made; yet a prize was in reach
worth the loss of thousands. While we were idly shelling the wood,
behind which lay Franklin's corps--the right of McClellan's army--scarce
a rifle shot to the southwest, but concealed by intervening forest,
Longstreet and A.P. Hill were fighting the bloody engagement of
Frazier's Farm with Heintzelman and McCall, the Federal center and left.
Again, fractions against masses; for of the two divisions expected to
support them, Magruder's and Huger's, the latter did not get up, and the
former was taken off by a misleading message from Holmes, who, from the
south bank of the James, had reached the Newmarket road a day later than
was intended. Longstreet and Hill fought into the night, held a large
part of the field, and captured many prisoners (including General
McCall) and guns, but their own loss was severe. After the action,
Franklin quietly passed within a few yards of them, joined Heintzelman,
and with him gained Malvern Hill, which McClellan had fortified during
the day, employing for the purpose the commands of Keyes and Porter.

On the succeeding morning (July 1), Jackson followed the enemy's track
from White Oak Swamp Creek toward Malvern Hill, passing the field of
Frazier's Farm, and Magruder's division, which had arrived in the night
and relieved the exhausted commands of Longstreet and Hill.

Malvern Hill was a desperate position to attack in front, though, like
Cold Harbor, it could be turned on the right. Here McClellan was posted
with his whole force. His right was covered by Turkey Creek, an affluent
of the James; his left was near that river and protected by gunboats,
which, though hidden by timber, threw shells across his entire front.
Distance and uncertainty of aim saved us from much loss by these
projectiles, but their shriek and elongated form astonished our landward
men, who called them lamp posts. By its height, Malvern Hill dominated
the ground to the north, the James River, and the Newmarket road on
which we approached, and was crowned with a numerous and heavy
artillery. On our side, from inferior elevation, artillery labored under
a great disadvantage, and was brought into action in detail to be
overpowered.

The left attack was assigned to Jackson, the right to Magruder,
supported by Huger and Holmes--Longstreet and A.P. Hill in reserve.
Jackson's dispositions were as follows: On the extreme left, the
division of Whiting, then artillery supported by a brigade under Wade
Hampton, my brigade, and on my right the division of D.H. Hill. In
reserve were the remainder of Ewell's division and the brigades of
Winder, Lawton, and Cunningham. It was perhaps 3 o'clock of the
afternoon before these dispositions were completed.

As it was General Lee's intention to open from his right, Magruder was
waited for, who, following Jackson on the road, was necessarily later in
getting into position. Orders were for Hill to attack with the bayonet
as soon as he heard the cheers of Magruder's charge. To be ready, Hill
advanced over open ground to some timber within four hundred yards of
the enemy's line, but suffered in doing so. Artillery sent to his
support was crippled and driven off. It was 5 o'clock or after when a
loud shout and some firing were heard on the right, and, supposing this
to be Magruder's attack, Hill led his men to the charge. He carried the
first line of the enemy, who, unoccupied elsewhere, reenforced at once,
and Hill was beaten off with severe loss. The brigades of Trimble,
Lawton, Winder, and Cunningham were sent to his assistance, but could
accomplish nothing beyond holding the ground. About sunset, after Hill's
attack had failed, Magruder got into position and led on his men with
similar fortune. Like Hill, he and his troops displayed superb courage
and suffered enormously; but it was not to be; such partial attacks were
without the first element of success. My brigade was not moved from its
position, but experienced some loss by artillery.

After the action, Stuart arrived from the north side of the
Chickahominy, where he had been since Cold Harbor. Had he been brought
over the Long Bridge two days earlier, McClellan's huge trains on the
Charles City road would have fallen an easy prey to his cavalry, and he
could have blocked the roads through the forest.

McClellan's guns continued firing long after nightfall, but the ensuing
morning found him and his army at Harrison's Landing, in an impregnable
position. Here ended the campaign around Richmond.

The strategy displayed on the Confederate side was magnificent, and gave
opportunity for resplendent success; but this opportunity was lost by
tactical mistakes, occasioned by want of knowledge of the theatre of
action, and it is to be feared that Time, when he renders his verdict,
will declare the gallant dead who fell at Gaines's Mill, Cold Harbor,
Frazier's Farm, and Malvern Hill, to have been sacrificed on the altar
of the bloodiest of all Molochs--Ignorance.

The crisis of my illness now came in a paralysis of the lower limbs, and
I was taken to Richmond, where I learned of my promotion to
major-general, on the recommendation of Jackson, for services in the
Valley, and assignment to a distant field.

       *       *       *       *       *

Having expressed an opinion of McClellan as an organizer of armies, I
will now treat of his conduct as a commander in this and his subsequent
campaign. His first operations on the peninsula were marked by a
slowness and hesitancy to be expected of an engineer, with small
experience in handling troops. His opponent, General Magruder, was a man
of singular versatility. Of a boiling, headlong courage, he was too
excitable for high command. Widely known for social attractions, he had
a histrionic vein, and indeed was fond of private theatricals. Few
managers could have surpassed him in imposing on an audience a score of
supernumeraries for a grand army. Accordingly, with scarce a tenth the
force, he made McClellan reconnoiter and deploy with all the caution of
old Melas, till Johnston came up. It is true that McClellan steadily
improved, and gained confidence in himself and his army; yet he seemed
to regard the latter as a parent does a child, and, like the first
Frederick William's gigantic grenadiers, too precious for gunpowder.

His position in front of Richmond, necessitated by the establishment of
his base on York River, was vicious, because his army was separated by
the Chickahominy, a stream subject to heavy floods, which swept away
bridges and made the adjacent lowlands impassable. Attacked at Fair Oaks
while the river was in flood, he displayed energy, but owed the escape
of his two exposed corps to Johnston's wound and the subsequent blunders
of the Confederates. To operate against Richmond on the north bank of
the James, his proper plan was to clear that river and rest his left
upon it, or to make the Potomac and Rappahannock his base, as the line
of rail from Aquia and Fredericksburg was but little longer than the
York River line. This, keeping him more directly between the Confederate
army and Washington, would have given him McDowell's corps, the
withdrawal of which from his direction he earnestly objected to. The
true line of attack was on the south of the James, where Grant was
subsequently forced by the ability of Lee; but it should be observed
that after he took the field, McClellan had not the liberty of action
accorded to Grant. That Lee caught his right "in the air" at Hanover and
Cold Harbor, McClellan ascribes to his Government's interference with
and withdrawal of McDowell's corps. Reserving this, he fought well at
Gaines's Mill, Cold Harbor, and Frazier's Farm. Always protecting his
selected line of retreat, bringing off his movable stores, and
preserving the organization of his army, he restored its spirit and
_morale_ by turning at Malvern Hill to inflict a bloody repulse on his
enemy. In his official report he speaks of his movement from the
Chickahominy to Harrison's Landing on the James as a change of base,
previously determined. This his detractors sneer at as an afterthought,
thereby unwittingly enhancing his merit. Regarded as a change of base,
carefully considered and provided for, it was most creditable; but if
suddenly and unexpectedly forced upon him, he exhibited a courage,
vigor, and presence of mind worthy of the greatest commanders.

Safe at Harrison's Landing, in communication with the fleet, the army
was transferred from McClellan to the command of General Pope; and the
influence of McClellan on his troops can not be correctly estimated
without some allusion to this officer, under whose command the Federal
Army of the Potomac suffered such mortifying defeat. Of an effrontery
while danger was remote equaled by helplessness when it was present, and
mendacity after it had passed, the annals of despotism scarce afford an
example of the elevation of such a favorite. It has been said that his
talent for the relation of obscene stories engaged the attention and
confidence of President Lincoln. However this may be, great was the
consternation at Washington produced by his incapacity. The bitterness
of official rancor was sweetened, and in honeyed phrase McClellan was
implored to save the capital. He displayed an unselfish patriotism by
accepting the task without conditions for himself, but it may be doubted
if he was right in leaving devoted friends under the scalping-knife,
speedily applied, as might have been foreseen.

With vigor he restored order and spirit to the army, and led it, through
the passes of South Mountain, to face Lee, who was stretched from
Chambersburg to Harper's Ferry. Having unaccountably permitted his
cavalry to separate from him, and deprived himself of adequate means of
information, Lee was to some extent taken unawares. His thin lines at
Antietam, slowly fed with men jaded by heavy marching, were sorely
pressed. There was a moment, as Hooker's advance was stayed by the wound
of its leader, when McClellan, with _storge_ of battle, might have led
on his reserves and swept the field. Hard would it have been for the
Confederates, with the river in rear; but this seemed beyond McClellan
or outside of his nature. Antietam was a drawn battle, and Lee recrossed
into Virginia at his leisure.

While it may be confidently believed that McClellan would have continued
to improve by experience in the field, it is doubtful if he possessed
that divine spark which impels a commander, at the accepted moment, to
throw every man on the enemy and grasp complete victory. But his
Government gave him no further opportunity. He disappeared from the war,
to be succeeded by mediocrity, too well recognized to disturb the
susceptibility of a War Secretary who, like Louvois, was able, but
jealous of merit and lustful of power.

       *       *       *       *       *

Although in the last months of the war, after he had assumed command of
the armies of the Confederacy, I had some correspondence with General
Lee, I never met him again, and indeed was widely separated from him,
and it now behooves me to set forth an opinion of his place in Southern
history. Of all the men I have seen, he was best entitled to the epithet
of distinguished; and so marked was his appearance in this particular,
that he would not have passed unnoticed through the streets of any
capital. Reserved almost to coldness, his calm dignity repelled
familiarity: not that he seemed without sympathies, but that he had so
conquered his own weaknesses as to prevent the confession of others
before him. At the outbreak of the war his reputation was exclusively
that of an engineer, in which branch of the military service of the
United States he had, with a short exception, passed his career. He was
early sent to Western Virginia on a forlorn hope against Rosecrans,
where he had no success; for success was impossible. Yet his lofty
character was respected of all and compelled public confidence. Indeed,
his character seemed perfect, his bath in Stygian waters complete; not a
vulnerable spot remained: _totus teres atque rotundus_. His soldiers
reverenced him and had unbounded confidence in him, for he shared all
their privations, and they saw him ever unshaken of fortune. Tender and
protecting love he did not inspire: such love is given to weakness, not
to strength. Not only was he destitute of a vulgar greed for fame, he
would not extend a hand to welcome it when it came unbidden. He was
without ambition, and, like Washington, into whose family connection he
had married, kept duty as his guide.

The strategy by which he openly, to attract attention, reenforced
Jackson in the Valley, to thrust him between McDowell and McClellan at
Cold Harbor, deserves to rank with Marlborough's cross march in Germany
and Napoleon's rapid concentration around Ulm; though his tactical
manoeuvres on the field were inferior to the strategy. His wonderful
defensive campaign in 1864 stands with that of Napoleon in 1813; and the
comparison only fails by an absence of sharp returns to the offensive.
The historian of the Federal Army of the Potomac states (and, as far as
I have seen, uncontradicted) that Grant's army, at second Cold Harbor,
refused to obey the order to attack, so distressed was it by constant
butchery. In such a condition of _morale_ an advance upon it might have
changed history. In truth, the genius of Lee for offensive war had
suffered by a too long service as an engineer. Like Erskine in the House
of Commons, it was not his forte. In both the Antietam and Gettysburg
campaigns he allowed his cavalry to separate from him, and was left
without intelligence of the enemy's movements until he was upon him. In
both, too, his army was widely scattered, and had to be brought into
action by piecemeal. There was an abundance of supplies in the country
immediately around Harper's Ferry, and had he remained concentrated
there, the surrender of Miles would have been advanced, and McClellan
met under favorable conditions. His own report of Gettysburg confesses
his mistakes; for he was of too lofty a nature to seek scapegoats, and
all the rambling accounts of that action I have seen published add but
little to his report. These criticisms are written with unaffected
diffidence; but it is only by studying the campaigns of great commanders
that the art of war can be illustrated.

Nevertheless, from the moment Lee succeeded to the command of the army
in Virginia, he was _facile princeps_ in the war, towering above all on
both sides, as the pyramid of Ghizeh above the desert. Steadfast to the
end, he upheld the waning fortunes of the Confederacy as did Hector
those of Troy. Last scene of all, at his surrender, his greatness and
dignity made of his adversary but a humble accessory; and if departed
intelligences be permitted to take ken of the affairs of this world, the
soul of Light Horse Harry rejoices that his own eulogy of Washington,
"First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen,"
is now, by the united voice of the South, applied to his noble son.

Foregoing criticisms have indicated the tendency of engineer service to
unfit men for command. It was once said of a certain colonel that he was
an admirable officer when absent from soldiers. No amount of theoretical
training can supply the knowledge gained by direct and immediate
association with troops. The ablest and most promising graduates from
West Point are annually assigned to the engineer and ordnance corps.
After some years they become scientists, perhaps pedants, but not
soldiers. Whatever may be the ultimate destination of such young men,
they should be placed on duty for at least one year with each arm of the
service, and all officers of the general staff below the highest grades
should be returned to the line for limited periods. In no other way can
a healthy connection between line and staff be preserved. The United
States will doubtless continue to maintain an army, however small, as a
model, if for no other purpose, for volunteers, the reliance of the
country in the event of a serious war. It ought to have the best
possible article for the money, and, to secure this, should establish a
camp of instruction, composed of all arms, where officers could study
the actual movements of troops.




CHAPTER VII.

THE DISTRICT OF LOUISIANA.


A month of rest at Richmond restored my health, which subsequently
remained good; but in leaving Virginia I was separated from my brigade,
endeared by so many memories. It remained with Lee's army, and gained
distinction in many battles. As the last preserved of Benjamin on the
rock of Rimmon, scarce a handful survived the war; but its story would
comprise much of that of the Army of Northern Virginia, and I hope some
survivor, who endured till the end, will relate it. A braver command
never formed line of battle.

And now I turned my steps toward the West, where, beyond the "father of
waters," two years of hard work and much fighting awaited me. The most
direct route to the Southwest was by Chattanooga, where General Bragg
was concentrating the Army of Tennessee. This officer had requested the
War Department to assign me to duty with his army as chief of staff, and
it was suggested to me to call on him _en route_. He had reached
Chattanooga in advance of his troops, then moving from Tupelo in
northern Mississippi. In the two days passed at Chattanooga, General
Bragg communicated to me his plan of campaign into Kentucky, which was
excellent, giving promise of large results if vigorously executed; and I
think its failure may be ascribed to the infirmities of the commander.

Born in North Carolina, graduated from West Point in 1837, Bragg served
long and creditably in the United States artillery. In the war with
Mexico he gained much celebrity, especially at Buena Vista, to the
success of which action, under the immediate eye of General Zachary
Taylor, he largely contributed. Resigning the service, he married a
lady of Louisiana and purchased an estate on the Bayou Lafourche, where
he resided at the outbreak of civil war. Promoted to the rank of general
after the death of Albert Sidney Johnston, he succeeded Beauregard,
retired by ill health, in command of the Army of Tennessee. Possessing
experience in and talent for war, he was the most laborious of
commanders, devoting every moment to the discharge of his duties. As a
disciplinarian he far surpassed any of the senior Confederate generals;
but his method and manner were harsh, and he could have won the
affections of his troops only by leading them to victory. He furnished a
striking illustration of the necessity of a healthy body for a sound
intellect. Many years of dyspepsia had made his temper sour and
petulant; and he was intolerant to a degree of neglect of duty, or what
he esteemed to be such, by his officers. A striking instance of this
occurred during my visit. At dinner, surrounded by his numerous staff, I
inquired for one of his division commanders, a man widely known and
respected, and received this answer: "General ---- is an old woman,
utterly worthless." Such a declaration, privately made, would have been
serious; but publicly, and certain to be repeated, it was astonishing.

As soon as we had withdrawn to his private room, I asked by whom he
intended to relieve General ----. "Oh! by no one. I have but one or two
fitted for high command, and have in vain asked the War Department for
capable people." To my suggestion that he could hardly expect hearty
cooeperation from officers of whom he permitted himself to speak
contemptuously, he replied: "I speak the truth. The Government is to
blame for placing such men in high position." From that hour I had
misgivings as to General Bragg's success, and felt no regret at the
refusal of the authorities to assign me to duty with him. It may be said
of his subordinate commanders that they supported him wonderfully, in
despite of his temper, though that ultimately produced dissatisfaction
and wrangling. Feeble health, too, unfitted him to sustain
long-continued pressure of responsibility, and he failed in the
execution of his own plan.

The movement into Kentucky was made by two lines. General Kirby Smith
led a subordinate force from Knoxville, East Tennessee, through
Cumberland Gap, and, defeating the Federals in a spirited action at
Richmond, Kentucky, reached Lexington, in the center of the State, and
threatened Cincinnati. Bragg moved on a line west of the Cumberland
range toward Louisville, on the Ohio River; and this movement forced the
Federal commander, Buell, to march north to the same point by a parallel
road, farther west. Buell left garrisons at Nashville and other
important places, and sought to preserve his communications with
Louisville, his base. Weakened by detachments, as well as by the
necessity of a retrograde movement, Bragg should have brought him to
action before he reached Louisville. Defeated, the Federals would have
been driven north of the Ohio to reorganize, and Bragg could have
wintered his army in the fertile and powerful State of Kentucky,
isolating the garrisons in his rear; or, if this was impossible, which
does not appear, he should have concentrated against Buell when the
latter, heavily reenforced, marched south from Louisville to regain
Nashville. But he fought a severe action at Perryville with a fraction
of his army, and retired to Central Tennessee. The ensuing winter, at
Murfreesboro, he contested the field with Rosecrans, Buell's successor,
for three days; and though he won a victory, it was not complete, and
the summer of 1863 found him again at Chattanooga. In the mean time, a
Federal force under General Burnside passed through Cumberland Gap, and
occupied Knoxville and much of East Tennessee, severing the direct line
of rail communication from Richmond to the Southwest.

This condensed account of the Kentucky campaign, extending over many
months, is given because of my personal intimacy with the commander, who
apprised me of his plans. General Bragg died recently in Texas. I have
rarely known a more conscientious, laborious man. Exacting of others, he
never spared himself, but, conquering disease, showed a constant
devotion to duty; and distinguished as were his services in the cause he
espoused, they would have been far greater had he enjoyed the blessing
of health.

Leaving Chattanooga, I proceeded to my destination, 

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