Leading a charge.
Leading a charge.
Barksdale puts spurs to his horse and rides to the rear, leaving half of his brigade and eight guns in the hands of the victors.
Barksdale says:—
"The distance from town to the points assailed was so short, the attack so suddenly made, and the difficulty of removing troops from one part of the line to another was so great, that it was utterly impossible for either General Wilcox or General Hayes to reach the scene of action in time to afford any assistance whatever."[37]
There was consternation in the Rebel lines. Early fled down the Telegraph road. Hayes also ran. Wilcox, who was not aware of the disaster, remained in position on Taylor's Hill, wondering what had happened. Had Sedgwick known his position, the whole of Wilcox's brigade might have been captured; but it required time to reform the lines, and Wilcox made his escape.
Long and loud and joyous were the shouts of the victors. The stronghold had been wrested from the Rebels at last.
It was Sunday noon. Hooker had just fallen back from Chancellorsville, and the Rebels were rejoicing over their success, when a messenger reached Lee with the tidings of disaster. Fredericksburg was lost, after all. It must be recovered, or the victory at Chancellorsville would be only a disastrous defeat.
Sedgwick telegraphed his success to Hooker.
"Move and attack Lee in rear," was Hooker's order.
Lee sent McLaws to hold Sedgwick in check. The time had come when Hooker should have assumed the offensive. The First Corps had arrived, but had taken no part in the battle. The Third Corps, Meade's, was in good condition; so was the Second, Hancock's, although it had fought during the forenoon. Barlow's brigade of the Eleventh was fresh; the Twelfth had fought bravely, had lost heavily, but was not demoralized. The Third Corps had suffered most of all, yet it could be relied upon for another contest. The withdrawal of McLaws left Lee's line thin towards Fredericksburg, the place to break through, and open communication with Sedgwick.The hour had come when he ought not to stand longer on the defensive, but gathering his forces in mass overwhelm Lee by a sudden and mighty onset. It was an auspicious moment,—a golden opportunity, such as does not often come to military commanders. But having formed his plan of fighting a defensive battle, he did not depart from it, and lost the victory which lay within his grasp.
Sedgwick having carried the heights of Fredericksburg, instead of following Early down the Telegraph road, made preparations to move towards Chancellorsville, and join Hooker.
Wilcox, meanwhile, brought two of Huger's rifle-guns into position near Dr. Taylor's house, and opened fire. He also threw out his skirmishers, made a display of his force, and looked round to see what could be done to escape from his perilous position. Sedgwick brought up a battery, and moved forward his lines. Wilcox fled, and succeeded, by rapid marching under the shelter of a pine thicket, in gaining the plank-road, near Salem Church, where he was joined by General McLaws, and where also Barksdale rallied his troops.
The church is a brick building, without any steeple, standing on the south side of the road, about four miles out from Fredericksburg, and about a mile and a half south of the Rappahannock at Banks's Ford. There was an oak grove near the church, and in front of it an open field, but west of it there were thick woods, which effectually concealed the Rebels. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when Sedgwick advanced up the plank-road, with Brooks's division in the road, Newton north of it, and Howe on the south side. Sedgwick's skirmishers sent back word that the Rebels were in strong force in the woods. At the same moment the Rebel batteries opened fire. One of their first shells killed a mounted orderly and his horse, and wounded Captain Reed, of General Brooks's staff.
Sedgwick brought up his artillery and commenced a fire upon the church, and the woods beyond it. Wilcox had formed his line across the plank-road. His sharpshooters were in the church. He had four pieces of artillery in the road and on each side of it. He also threw a company of sharpshooters into a school-house near the church. Kershaw's andWofford's brigades were on the right of the road; Semmes's and Mahone's on the other side. Sedgwick's batteries were in position near the toll-gate, and so accurate and destructive was the fire of his guns that the Rebel batteries by the church were driven from their position. Russell's and Bartlett's brigades moved forward to rout the enemy from the woods, Sedgwick supposing there was but a small force to oppose him. The advance was over ground slightly ascending, through an open field, towards the woods, where the Rebel skirmishers were lying. It is a narrow belt of woods. Behind it were the church and school-house, and beyond the church the woods where the main body of the Rebels were lying. They drove the skirmishers from the belt of woods, halted a moment to reform their lines, gave three cheers, charged through the grove, routing the Rebels there concealed. They surrounded the school-house, captured the entire company of the Ninth Alabama stationed in it, put to flight a regiment lying behind the house.[38]But the remainder of the Ninth Alabama, with other regiments, came to the rescue, succeeded in recapturing a portion of their comrades, and forced Russell and Bartlett to retire.
It was now nearly six o'clock in the afternoon, and till night set in there was heavy fighting along the whole line. Wilcox and Semmes several times advanced upon Sedgwick, but were repulsed. So far as numbers were concerned the contest was about equal. But the Rebels were on commanding ground, and protected by the woods, while Sedgwick was in the open field. In this contest Wilcox lost four hundred and ninety-five men. He had six officers killed and twenty-three wounded. Semmes lost six hundred and eighty-three killed and wounded, Wafford five hundred and sixty-two. The whole loss of the Rebels in the fight at Salem Church was nearly two thousand. Sedgwick, instead of advancing again, waited for the Rebels to attack him, but they did not choose to come out from their strong position in the woods, and try it a second time in the field. Thus the day closed.
Salem church.Union Positions.Rebel Positions.1.Newton's Division.A.Semmes and Mahone.2.Brooks's"B.Wilcox.3.Howe's"C.Kershaw and Wofford.D.Barksdale.E.Reinforcements.F.Dr. Taylor's.G.Route of Wilcox's Retreat
Salem church.
Sedgwick's success endangered Lee, and, unless Fredericksburg were regained, the battle was lost to the Rebels. Lee says:—
"The enemy had so strengthened his position near Chancellorsville that it was deemed inexpedient to assail it with less than our whole force, which could not be concentrated until we were relieved from the danger that menaced our rear. It was accordingly resolved still further to reinforce the troops in front of General Sedgwick, in order, if possible, to drive him across the Rappahannock. Accordingly, on the 4th, General Anderson was directed to proceed with his remaining brigades to join General McLaws, the three divisions of Jackson's corps holding our position at Chancellorsville. Anderson reached Salem Church about noon, and was directed to gain the left flank of the enemy and form a junction with Early."[39]
Half of the Rebel army was arrayed against Sedgwick, who held his ground through the 4th till night. Early, during the day, retraced his steps up the Telegraph road, and, finding that Sedgwick had moved out to Salem Church, and that the fortifications were unoccupied, took possession, and thus cut Sedgwick's communications with Falmouth. When Anderson arrived he had no alternative but to retreat by Banks's Ford, where he crossed the river without loss during the night. Hooker also recrossed, took up his bridges, and the army returned again to its camp.
In reviewing this battle, it is apparent that Hooker's movement to Chancellorsville was a surprise to Lee. It was excellently planned and efficiently executed,—each corps reaching its assigned position at the time appointed by the Commander-in-chief. It is plain that Hooker's departure from his original intention—to await an attack from Lee—was the cause of the disaster at the beginning of the engagement. Sickles's corps and Barlow's brigade being absent, the balance of the Eleventh Corps had no supports; and yet by Bushbeck's brigade and Dilger's battery, with such assistance as was given by a few brave men of the other brigades, Jackson's right was not only held in check, but thrown into confusion. Howard's statement of the case presents the matter in its true light.
Thus reads his report:—
"Now, as to the cause of this disaster to my corps."1st. Though constantly threatened, and apprised of the moving of the enemy, yet the woods were so dense that he was able to mass a largeforce, whose exact whereabouts neither patrols, reconnoissancers, nor scouts ascertained. He succeeded in forming a column to and outflanking my right."2d. By the panic produced by the enemy's reverse fire, regiments and artillery were thrown suddenly upon those in position."3d. The absence of General Barlow's brigade, which I had previously located in reserve anden echelon, with Colonel Von Gilsa's, so as to cover his right flank."My corps was very soon reorganized, near Chancellorsville, and relieved General Meade's corps on the left of the line, where it remained till Thursday morning."[40]
"Now, as to the cause of this disaster to my corps.
"1st. Though constantly threatened, and apprised of the moving of the enemy, yet the woods were so dense that he was able to mass a largeforce, whose exact whereabouts neither patrols, reconnoissancers, nor scouts ascertained. He succeeded in forming a column to and outflanking my right.
"2d. By the panic produced by the enemy's reverse fire, regiments and artillery were thrown suddenly upon those in position.
"3d. The absence of General Barlow's brigade, which I had previously located in reserve anden echelon, with Colonel Von Gilsa's, so as to cover his right flank.
"My corps was very soon reorganized, near Chancellorsville, and relieved General Meade's corps on the left of the line, where it remained till Thursday morning."[40]
Had Sickles's corps and Barlow's brigade been in the line, there would have been not only no disaster, but Jackson would have been defeated at the outset; for, upon the return of those troops from Scott's Run, he was driven with great loss.
Jackson was driven by Sickles when the Third Corps returned to the line; and had Sickles and Barlow been in their proper positions when the attack was made, they could have repulsed him with greater ease.
Though Jackson's attack was successful, it is not therefore conclusively evident that Lee's plan was wise. His army was divided into three parts,—Early at Fredericksburg, Lee east of Chancellorsville, and Jackson northwest of it. Being thoroughly acquainted with the country, he was able to take his position unobserved.
There were several opportunities during the battle when Hooker could have broken Lee's lines. The battle virtually was lost to Lee on Sunday noon. Hooker had fallen back from Chancellorsville, but Sedgwick had taken Fredericksburg. Had Hooker, when he ordered Sedgwick to attack Lee in the rear, on Sunday afternoon, himself advanced, Lee would have been forced to abandon the contest; but, having resolved at the outset to stand on the defensive, the Union commander adhered to the idea, and thus Lee was able to retrieve the disaster at Fredericksburg,—far more serious than that which had happened to the Eleventh Corps.
Could we but comprehend the ways of God, we might perhaps discover that the failure of the Union army at Chancellorsvillewas not owing to the prowess of the Rebels, the valor of Stonewall Jackson, nor the strategy of Lee, but to another cause. When the army came into position at Chancellorsville, the commanding general is reported to have said that the Almighty could not prevent him from winning a victory. God is not mocked with impunity. There is one anthem resounding through all the ages,—"Te Deum Laudamus!"
"Keep out of the draft."
"Keep out of the draft."
May, 1863.
"The Yankees can't ride horses; they were made to go on foot and dig in the dirt; but the men of the South are true-born cavaliers, accustomed from their childhood to the sports of the field," said a Richmond newspaper at the beginning of the war; but Zagoni's charge at Springfield, Pleasanton's at Barber's Cross-Roads, and Dahlgren's at Fredericksburg showed that the men of the North could ride to some purpose. Up to this time the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac had taken little part in the great battles which had been fought. It had been divided by McClellan into squadrons, and attached to brigades of infantry; but Burnside, before his resignation, had begun a reorganization of the cavalry. Hooker completed the work by forming a cavalry corps, consisting of three divisions, commanded by Major-General Stoneman. The division commanders were Generals Pleasanton, Gregg, and Averill. In the month of March, Stoneman, wishing to ascertain the position of the Rebel cavalry, sent Averill's division across the Rappahannock, at Kelley's Ford. The Rebels guarding the crossing were nearly all captured. Averill pushed out towards Culpepper, but met Stuart, and after a sharp engagement retired across the river.
March and April were muddy; but Stoneman's squadrons were busy foraging the country north of the Rappahannock, while his scouts were finding their way through Stuart's lines, reaching James River, entering Richmond, ascertaining where supplies for the Rebel army were accumulated, and what troops guarded the bridges in rear of Lee's army. They discovered that the main body of the Rebel cavalry was in the vicinity of Culpepper and Orange Court-House, under Fitz-Hugh and Custis Lee.
One feature of General Hooker's plan, in the movement toChancellorsville, was the destruction of Lee's supplies and his communications with Richmond. This part was assigned to the cavalry. Averill was sent to Bealton, on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, as if intending a movement upon Gordonsville. Stuart sent the two Lees up the river to keep watch, which left a door open at Germanna Ford.
Stoneman sent all his unserviceable horses and men to Falmouth. Men who could not endure hardship and exposure were detailed to remain and guard the camp. The cavalrymen only knew that there was to be a movement somewhere, so well kept were Hooker's intentions.
Pleasanton was ordered to accompany Hooker to Chancellorsville, Averill was directed to cross the river at Rappahannock Station, and move towards Gordonsville, while Gregg's division was selected to strike the blow which would cripple Lee.
On the 29th of April, when the Eleventh and Twelfth Corps reached Kelley's Ford, on the Rappahannock, Gregg, who was lying there, crossed in advance, and moved west towards Culpepper. Averill at the same time forded the river at Rappahannock Station, four miles above, and moved also towards Culpepper. There was a small force of Rebel cavalry in that town, but Averill charged through the streets. The Rebels made a hasty retreat towards Gordonsville, crossing the Rapidan at the railroad and burning the bridge behind them. Averill followed, and the Lees thought that Gordonsville was the point aimed at. Gregg, instead of going to Culpepper, turned south through Stevensburg; and, while the Eleventh and Twelfth Corps were crossing the Rapidan at Germanna Ford, his troops were fording the same stream eight miles higher up.
When Gregg arrived at Raccoon Ford, he found it guarded by a strong force on the opposite side, intrenched around the house of Colonel Porter, which overlooks the ford. Gregg halted his column in the field and woods, near the house of Mr. Stringfellow, on the northern bank, and made demonstrations as if to cross. He opened with his artillery, which was replied to by the Rebels. While the enemy was thus diverted, a small force was sent to Morton's Ford, two miles below, which crossed without opposition, dashed up the road, and came upon the Rebels in rear of Colonel Porter's house. They fled towardsOrange Court-House. Lieutenant Gaskell, with a portion of the Fifth United States Cavalry, followed them five miles, capturing an officer and several men. The division crossed, and bivouacked on the hills around Colonel Porter's house for the night. This movement of Gregg's compelled the Lees, who intended to fight Averill at Rapidan Station, to make a hasty retreat towards Gordonsville, for Gregg was on their flank. Averill crossed the stream, driving back the Rebels, and by his movement deceiving the enemy. He followed them nearly to Gordonsville, remained till Gregg's division was well on its way, then recrossed the stream, and rejoined Hooker.
The night of the 30th of April was cold and the ground damp, but no fires were allowed. At two o'clock in the morning the men were roused from sleep, not by the bugle-call, but by low-spoken words. They were soon ready to move, but were obliged to wait till daylight for a guide. Four hours of valuable time were lost by this delay.
The column moved along the road which runs south from Raccoon Ford to Louisa Court-House, at Greenwood. It crossed Mountain Run soon after daylight, reached the Fredericksburg plank-road, and moved on the north fork of the North Anna. A small body dashed into Orange Spring early in the morning, and captured a lieutenant of Jackson's staff, and a wagon loaded with intrenching tools. Squadrons were sent out in all directions,—on the side-roads and by-paths, through the fields and forests,—telling the people everywhere that Hooker's whole army was on the march, creating the impression among the people that Hooker was making a swift descent upon Richmond. The soldiers helped themselves to chickens, turkeys, lambs, and obtained breakfasts in the houses of the farmers, who were astonished at their sudden appearance, and their unceremonious way of sitting down to breakfast without being asked. They visited stables, seized or exchanged horses without paying any boot. Great was the excitement among the negroes, who poured out from the cabins with wild expressions of joy. Hundreds of them joined the column, without saying good by to their masters. The citizens were sullen, but the women gave free utterance to their feelings.
A night march of cavalry.
A night march of cavalry.
Gregg reached Louisa Court-House, twenty miles from RaccoonFord, at two o'clock in the afternoon. The Virginia Central Railroad, from Richmond to Gordonsville, passes through the town. A large quantity of supplies was in store there, guarded by several hundred Rebel cavalry, who, when they heard that the "Yankees" were coming, sent off what they could on a train of cars, and then fled to Gordonsville. Gregg sent out a regiment in pursuit, while the main body of his command bivouacked in the field west of the Court-House. Small bodies were detailed east and west along the railroad, tearing up the track, burning the ties, and destroying all the culverts and bridges in the vicinity.
It was the first time that the people of Louisa Court-House had been visited by the Yankees. They had lived in security, never entertaining the thought that the "Yankees" could penetrate so far into the interior. They wanted high pay for all they had to sell, but were ready to make a great discount between Confederate currency and greenbacks. Gregg was now east of Gordonsville and Averill north of it. Gregg sent a portion of the First Maine Cavalry towards the place, as if intending to proceed in that direction. Three or four miles west of the Court-House the Maine men encountered a large force, which had been sent by Fitz-Hugh Lee. The officer commanding the party sent word to Gregg, and fell back slowly; but the Rebels charged upon him, killed two, and captured twenty-eight. Gregg formed his division for battle, and the Rebels retreated towards Gordonsville.
At five o'clock in the afternoon, the railroad and depot buildings having been destroyed, the column turned southeast, crossed the South Anna, passing through Yancyville, a little village on that stream, moved down the river, and reached Thompson's Cross-Roads at eleven o'clock.
Up to this time General Stoneman had not informed his officers of his intentions. He called them together at midnight and gave them their instructions.
"You are to destroy the bridges over the North Anna, and break up Lee's communications in that direction," were his instructions to Gregg.
"Colonel Davis will destroy the bridges over the South Anna, south of the Fredericksburg Railroad."
"Colonel Wyndham, with details of regiments from his brigade, will reach the James River at Columbia, and destroy the bridge there and break up the canal."
"Colonel Kilpatrick, with the Harris Light Cavalry, will move to the Chickahominy, and burn the bridges across that stream."
Stoneman himself, with the main force, was to remain there, and cover the movement. When the object each commander had in view was accomplished, they were allowed the widest latitude for other operations.
At half past two o'clock Sunday morning, May 3d, the various columns are in motion. It is a bright moonlight night. Gregg moves northeast, Davis east, Kilpatrick southeast, and Wyndham south.
At this moment, Lee at Chancellorsville is arranging for his second attack on Hooker; Sedgwick preparing to storm the heights of Fredericksburg; Stonewall Jackson is mortally wounded, and lying in a house at Guinea's Station. Averill is hastening to withdraw from the vicinity of Orange Court-House, when he should be moving on towards Gordonsville. Couriers are flying through the country, along the roads leading to Richmond, with the astounding intelligence that "the Yankees are coming!"
General Gregg has the First Maine and Tenth New York, with two pieces of artillery. He moves rapidly up the Central Railroad. There are no troops to oppose him. He burns the station at Beaver Dam, and Anderson's bridge across the North Anna, about three miles north of the station. He sends out detachments along the railroad, burning all the bridges in the vicinity. Another detachment moves to the South Anna, along the Richmond and Gordonsville turnpike, and destroys the bridge called the Ground-Squirrel bridge, over that stream. Having accomplished the object of the expedition, without any loss, Gregg returns and rejoins Stoneman at Thompson's Cross-Roads the 5th of May having made a forced march of seventy miles, and doing great damage.
Kilpatrick and Davis are near together in their movements, going east and southeast. Kilpatrick makes his first halt thirteen miles from Richmond. There are bodies of Rebel troopsaround him,—a large force at Hanover Junction, other troops in the vicinity of Ashland, and others moving out from the city to intercept him. His only safety is in a rapid, audacious movement. At daylight on Monday morning, May 4th, after a short rest for his men and horses, he is again in motion, directly toward Richmond. He strikes the Fredericksburg railroad at Hungary Station, five miles from the city, burns the depot, tears up the track, pushes directly down the Brooke pike, till he can see the spires of the city, only two miles distant.
There is great excitement in the city,—riding to and fro of officers and couriers, mustering of militia, turning out of clerks from the departments, shouldering of muskets and hasty buckling on of cartridge-boxes, forming lines and hastening out to the intrenchments. Frightened farmers ride in from all directions with the intelligence that the country is swarming with Yankees. A company of artillery and a considerable force of infantry, with cavalry pickets and scouts, which are moving out on the Brooke pike, are seized with a panic and rush back to the city. The bells are rung. The confusion and consternation increase. Men hide their valuables. Women and children cross the river to Manchester. The Union prisoners, who have been suffering the horrors of Libby Prison for many months, looking through their iron-grated windows, behold the commotion. They can hear the booming of Kilpatrick's guns. Their hearts bound with indescribable joy. They are thrilled with the thought that deliverance is at hand.
Kilpatrick captures Lieutenant Brown, an aide-de-camp of General Winder, and an escort accompanying him, within the fortifications. He paroles him, dating the parole at the city of Richmond.
"You are a mighty daring sort of fellows, but you'll certainly be captured before sundown," said the aide.
"That may all be, but we intend to do a mighty deal of mischief first," replied Kilpatrick.[41]
He leaves a portion of the troops with his artillery, which engages the Rebel batteries, while, guided by a negro, with a small detachment he moves through the fields to the railroad,burns Meadow bridge, running a train of cars into the stream. With one regiment of cavalry he reaches the Rebel fortifications, captures Rebels inside them, plants his batteries, and throws shells almost into the city of Richmond, in face of their own batteries, destroys communication with Lee, burning bridges, tearing up railroad tracks, pulling down telegraph wire, running a train of cars into the river, with rebel troops all around him.
Having accomplished this he moves northeast, for he can see Rebel columns moving up the Brooke pike and Mechanicsville road, to cut off his retreat. He dismisses all hope of returning to Stoneman. It is a critical moment. He must move in some direction at once. He consults his map.
"To horse, men! We are all right! We are safe yet."[42]
With a faithful negro to guide him, he moves through woods and fields, along by-paths and cross roads, going east and northeast, to Hanover Town, on the Pamunkey. His horses are jaded, but he makes a hard ride, reaches the place in safety, crosses the stream, sets fire to the bridge, halts his men upon the northern bank. The Rebels, in hot pursuit, come down to the other bank, mortified and chagrined and enraged at his escape. The Yankees throw up their caps, and greet them with a hearty cheer. Scouts come in and report a train of thirty wagons loaded with corn for the Rebel army near by. Kilpatrick captures them, feeds his horses with what corn he needs, destroys the rest, moves five miles up the river, bivouacks for the night, remains till one o'clock in the morning of the 5th, then moving rapidly north to Aylett's, near Mattapony River, surprises three hundred Rebel cavalry, capturing two officers, thirty-three men, burning fifty-six wagons and a building containing twenty thousand barrels of corn and wheat, quantities of clothing and commissary stores, safely crossing the Mattapony in season to escape the advance of the Rebel cavalry in pursuit. Pushing on, later in the evening, he destroys a third wagon train, burns buildings containing a large amount of corn, near Tappahannock, then turning southeast, making a forced march of twenty miles, reaches King andQueen Court-House, where he finds a body of cavalry drawn up to dispute his passage. He prepares to charge, but suddenly discovers that it is a portion of the Twelfth Illinois of Colonel Davis's command. The meeting is a joyful one. The two commands move on together, marching southeast, reaching Gloucester Point at ten o'clock on the morning of the 7th, where they find rest and safety under the guns of the Union fortifications, making a march of nearly two hundred miles in less than five days, with a loss of only one officer and thirty-seven men, having captured and paroled upward of three hundred of the enemy.[43]
"Who will convey news to Hooker of our success?" was the question put by Kilpatrick when at Aylett's, after routing the Rebels there.
"I am ready to go," was the quick response of Lieutenant Estes of the First Maine, who was acting as aide to Kilpatrick. Ten men were detailed to accompany him. They struck across the country north, and reached the Rappahannock at Tappahannock Court-House, dashing into that place, and capturing a lieutenant and fifteen men! whom they paroled. The river was swollen, and they could not cross. The whole country was alarmed. The militia were assembling. There were three hundred on the north side of the river. The officer in command sent over a flag of truce demanding the Lieutenant to surrender; but Lieutenant Estes had no intention of giving up just then. Finding that he could not go north, he turned south. In his flight he came upon a Rebel major, two captains, and three privates, who were captured and paroled. But the militia were close upon the brave Lieutenant, who found himself and party caught in a trap between the river and the Great Dragon Swamp. Seeing that they could not escape on horseback, they abandoned their horses and took to the swamp. The militia surrounded it, and set bloodhounds on the track of the fugitives, who were finally captured, and sent off towards Richmond, under a strong guard; but before they reached the Mattapony, Kilpatrick set them at liberty and took the Rebel guard along with him to Gloucester, accompaniedby thousands of negroes, on foot, in carts, wagons, and old family carriages, drawn by mules, oxen, and sometimes by cows,—packed full, and loaded down on top, by the dark-hued but light-hearted creatures, who had heard of the proclamation of President Lincoln, and were ready to accept freedom at the hands of the Yankees. After resting a few days, Kilpatrick crossed the river on transports, marched up the tongue of land between the Rappahannock and Potomac, and joined Hooker at Falmouth, having made a complete circuit of the Rebel army.
When Colonel Wyndham left Thompson's Cross-Roads on the morning of the 3d, he moved rapidly southwest towards the James, striking it at Columbia. The distance was about twenty miles. There were many small creeks to cross, but Wyndham reached Columbia at eight o'clock. The people had just finished breakfast when a man, riding furiously, his hair wet with foam, came dashing down the street, shouting "The Yankees are coming! the Yankees are coming!"
The people laughed; some thought him crazy. The Yankees coming? Impossible! But a column of men in blue, with gleaming sabres, dashed down the road into the village. There were no Rebel soldiers in the vicinity to oppose Wyndham. Some of the citizens fled in consternation across the James, giving the alarm. But the people over the river would not believe their stories.
"I'll go and see for myself," said an old farmer, who mounted his horse and took one of his best servants with him. He went on till he was in sight of the Yankees, then stopped and looked at them in amazement. Suddenly his servant dashed away straight towards the Yankees.
"Stop! come back!" he shouted, but the negro galloped boldly into Wyndham's lines, bringing an excellent horse, while his late master turned the other way, more amazed than ever.
Some of the soldiers told the inhabitants that they belonged to Stuart's command; and the word spread that they were not Yankees after all. A young fellow, the son of a rich farmer, rode boldly into the lines to see Stuart's cavalry.
"Has Lee licked the Yankees?" he asked.
"I reckon," said a cavalryman.
"Good!" said the boy.
"See here, my friend, my horse has gi'n out. I am on important business; I should like to exchange horses with you. General Stuart will make it all right with you when he comes this way," said the soldier, who, without further ceremony, put his saddle upon the noble-blooded animal, while the young man looked on in amazement.
Many of the Rebel cavalrymen were dressed in blue clothing, which had been stripped from prisoners, and that was the reason why the inhabitants were at a loss to know whether they were Yankees or Rebels.
Colonel Wyndham burned the bridge across the James, destroyed several canal-boats loaded with supplies, burned a warehouse filled with corn and medical stores, dug sluices in the banks of the canal, and attempted to destroy the locks, but did not succeed. He remained till four o'clock in the afternoon, then pushed down the river five miles, moved north, then northwest, and reached Stoneman at ten o'clock in the evening, accompanied by hundreds of negroes. When the alarm was given on a plantation that the Yankees were coming, the farmers made all haste to secrete their horses.
"Here! Jim, Sam, Cuffee, take the horses into the woods. Quick!" There was a grand commotion in all the stables, the negroes mounting the horses and riding into the thick bushes; but as soon as they were out of their masters' sight, they made for the Yankees by the shortest route! They were ready to do anything for their deliverers. They kept close watch while the soldiers rested; visited plantations, bringing in chickens, turkeys, calves, and lambs, and cooked delicious suppers for the whole command. They kept Stoneman informed of what was going on. He learned that in two hours after Wyndham left Columbia, a large body of cavalry entered the place in pursuit, but Wyndham moved so rapidly they could not overtake him.
A portion of Buford's brigade, the First Regulars, dashed along the Virginia Central Railroad, and tore up the track. A company went to the North Anna, drove off a guard of infantry from a bridge, captured five prisoners, burned the bridge, and returned to Stoneman without losing a man.
The Fifth Regulars went down the James to Cartersvilletwelve miles below Columbia, to destroy a bridge. They met a portion of Lee's brigade. There was skirmishing; but while one portion of the Regulars was holding the Rebels in check, another party reached the bridge, set it on fire, and then the whole force returned to Stoneman.
The Rebels all the while were hovering round Stoneman on the southwest, but did not dare to attack him. They did not know what to make of the conflicting stories. "The Yankees are at Frederickshall, at Ashland, at Columbia, at Thompson's Cross-Roads, at Louisa, at Richmond," were the reports. The country swarmed with Yankees; every farmer had his story of woe, of stolen horses and runaway negroes; the farmers' wives and daughters mourned over lost chickens, of meat-houses broken open, jars of jelly and preserves carried away. Few of the Virginia farmers had ever seen a regiment of cavalry, and when the lines filed down the narrow roads, a squadron was magnified to a regiment, and a hundred men became a thousand.
On Tuesday afternoon, all of the detachments except Kilpatrick's and a portion of Davis's having returned, Stoneman commenced his homeward march, and recrossed the Rapidan at Raccoon Ford, in safety, though he was obliged to swim his horses through the swollen stream. There was no enemy to molest him, none to hang upon his rear. He recrossed the Rappahannock at Kelley's Ford, and rejoined Hooker at Falmouth, having successfully accomplished what he had undertaken.
The Rebels were mortified, chagrined, and exasperated. The success which they had achieved in compelling Hooker to retire from Chancellorsville was in a measure counterbalanced by Stoneman's operations, especially by Kilpatrick's audacious exploits.
This cavalry movement was the first great raid of the war. It was not only a success, but it toughened the soldiers and prepared them for the hardships and battles which followed on the Upper Rappahannock, at Aldie, Middleburg, and Gettysburg. It gave confidence. The men felt that they were no longer the laughing-stock of the army. They had other employment now than guarding teams or keeping watch on the picket line. There was pleasurable excitement in ridingthrough the enemy's country, making dashes into villages, charging upon the enemy, riding through the dense forests, and finding good living at every farm-house. There were plenty of volunteers for any enterprise.
A few days later Stuart attempted a counter raid in rear of the army, but was driven across the Rappahannock with ease. Then came the severe struggle at Brandy Station. Lee had started on his Gettysburg campaign, and Stuart was kept on the flank to conceal the movement, but Kilpatrick and Gregg unmasked it. Then as Stuart swung along the base of the Blue Ridge, while Lee went down the Shenandoah with the infantry, the contest was renewed in a running fight from Aldie to Snicker's Gap. In all of these engagements the superiority of the Union cavalry was fully established. The Union soldiers had learned to ride horses; and from Stoneman's raid to the capture of Jeff Davis they rode to some purpose.
Kearny Cross.
Kearny Cross.
March, 1863.
The encounter between the Merrimack and the Monitor had set the world agog on the matter of armored vessels. A fleet of ironclads had been prepared, with the special object in view of recapturing Fort Sumter. It was an event looked forward to with intense interest, not only in the North, but throughout the civilized world. Having a desire to witness that attack, I proceeded South, leaving New York on the 7th of February, 1863, on board the steamer Augusta Dinsmore, belonging to Adams's Express. Captain Crowell, her commander, was a sharp-eyed Connecticut Yankee, who kept the lead constantly going as we ran down the coast, and who was as well acquainted with all the soundings as the skipper of Nantucket immortalized by Mr. Fields, who detected the soil of Marm Hackett's garden by smell and taste, although Nantucket had sunk.
The harbor of Port Royal was crowded with shipping. General Foster's force from North Carolina had just arrived, to participate in a land movement. General Hunter was in command of the department, and there arose at once a question of jurisdiction, which paralyzed the operations of the army. The officers and soldiers at Port Royal, weary with doing nothing, had fitted up a theatre. The building was used for church services on Sunday. Attending the morning service the day after our arrival, I found an audience of about one hundred persons, among them General Hunter and staff. The clergyman, an Episcopalian, in a rusty black gown, stood upon the stage. A soldier played a melodeon and conducted the singing. In the afternoon there was a business meeting in the African Baptist church, which I also attended. Rev. Abraham Murchison, a tall copper-hued negro, was pastor, and presided over the deliberations. He had been a slave in Savannah, but made his way to our lines, was a storekeeper or huckster onweek-days, and preached on Sunday. The church was a plain wooden building, erected by order of General Mitchell for an African church. There were two rows of benches, a plain pine pulpit, a ventilated ceiling, from which three or four glass lamps were suspended,—all being very much like the rude churches to be found in the thinly-settled prairies of Illinois. The congregation were singing when we entered,—
"Sweet fields beyond the swelling floodStand dressed in living green,So to the Jews fair Canaan stood,While Jordan rolled between."
The leader was a round-headed, compact, energetic negro, twenty-five years of age, whose zeal was bounded only by the capacity of his lungs. It was the well-known tune "Jordan," sung by millions in times past and present. The women occupied one side of the house, the men sitting opposite. It was a dusky view, looking down the aisle from my seat at the right of the pulpit. They were countenances not types of beauty, not attractive intellectually. But there was perfect decorum and solemnity. All heads were bowed when the preacher addressed the Throne of Grace. It was a prayer full of supplications and thanksgiving, expressed in fitting words.
The church had a case of discipline. Their sexton had been remiss in lighting the lamps, and was arraigned for trial. The pastor called the sexton to the front, and thus indicted him:—
"John, my son, you are arraigned for not doing as you have agreed, and covenanted to do. We pay you one hundred and twenty dollars a year for lighting these yere beautiful lamps which the church have so generously provided, and, sir, you have been remiss in your duty. On Thursday night, when we were assembled for holy prayer, we were in darkness. You did wrong. You broke your obligations. You must be punished. What say you? Brethren, we will hear what he has to say."
"I lighted the lamps, sah, but they went out; de oil was bad, I reckon," said the sexton.
The pastor called upon one of the deacons to take the chair. He was of middle age, black as anthracite coal, bald-headed,and was dressed in pants and coat made of old sailcloth. By his side sat his colleague, wearing a United States soldiers' blue overcoat. The preacher, taking his stand in the aisle, laid aside his clerical authority, and became one of the brethren. "Brother cheerman, our brother am presumptus. He say he light de lamps and dey go out. How does he know dey go out? He ought to stay and see dey don't go out. He am presumptus and should be punished. I move, sir, dat our brother be set aside from commin to de Lord's table till he make satisfaction."
A brother seconded the motion, and the question was put by the deacon. Two or three voted affirmatively, but nearly all negatively. The question was not understood. The preacher explained: "You is discomposed in your minds. You do not understand de question. Can any of you tell me how you voted?"
The question was put a second time, and the offending member was unanimously debarred the privileges of the church.
After the discipline a candidate for admission was presented, a stout young man, named Jonas.
"Well, my son, where are you from?" said the pastor.
"From Charleston, sir."
"Was you a member of the church there, my son?"
"Yes, sir, I was a member of the church."
"Does any one here know anything about Jonas?"
A half-dozen responded "Yes," all agreeing that his deportment was correct.
"Did you bring your 'stificate with you?"
"No, sir; I came away in a hurry, and hadn't any time to get one."
"Yes, my son; we understand that you were obliged to leave in a hurry or not at all. But what made you become a Christian?"
"Because I felt I was a sinner."
"Did you pray, my son?"
"Yes, sir; and I feel that through the mercy of Jesus Christ my sins are pardoned."
It was a simple narrative, and expressed with evident consciousness of the solemnity of the declaration. It was plainthat in spiritual things these people were further advanced than in business matters. The evidence was satisfactory, and the member received by an extension of right hand of fellowship on the part of the pastor. In the evening Rev. Mr. Murchison preached from the text, "And they shall call upon the rocks and mountains to fall upon them," &c.
It was a crude, disjointed discourse, having very little logic, a great many large words, some of them ludicrously misapplied, yet contained striking thoughts, and appropriate similes. This was a congregation standing on the lowest step of civilization. Minister and people were but a twelvemonth out of bondage. All behind them was barbarism. Before them was a future, unrevealed, but infinitely better than what their past had been. Their meeting was orderly, and I have seen grave legislative bodies in quite as much of a muddle over a simple question as that congregation of black men emerging from their long night of darkness.
On the following Sunday I was present at a service on Ladies' Island. The owner of the plantation where the meeting was held erected his house in full view of Beaufort, and near the bank of the stream where the tide ebbs and flows upon the sandy beach. It was a mean mansion, standing on posts, to give free circulation to the air underneath. In hot summer days the shade beneath the house was the resort of all the poultry of the premises. Thousands of hard-working New England mechanics live in better houses, yet from Beaufort the place made an imposing show, surrounded by orange and magnolia trees. The sandy acres of the plantation stretched towards St. Helena. A short distance from the planter's house were the weather-beaten cabins of the negroes, mere hovels, without window-panes, with mud chimneys,—the homes of generations who had gone from the darkness and hopelessness of a wearying life to the rest and quiet of the grave.
On that morning when Admiral Dupont shelled the Rebels out of the forts at Hilton Head and Bay Point, the owner of these acres made a hasty exit from his house. He sent his overseer to the cabins to hurry up the negroes, but to his surprise not a negro was to be found. The colored people had heard the thundering down the bay. They knew its meaning.It set their hearts beating as they never had throbbed before. It was the sweetest music they ever had heard. A horseman came riding furiously up to the house, with terror in his countenance. The master hastened out to know how the battle was going.
"The Yankees have taken the forts!" said the messenger. The master became pale.
"You had better get your negroes together, and be ready for a move," said the messenger.
Sharp ears had heard all this,—the ears of Sam, a colored man, who, seeing the herald arrive in hot haste, had the curiosity to hear what he had to say, then bounded like a deer to the cabins, running from door to door, whispering to the inmates, "To the woods! to the woods! De Yankees hab taken de forts,—massa is going to de mainland, and is going to take us wid him."
The cabins were deserted in an instant; and five minutes later, when the overseer came round to gather his drove of human cattle, he found empty hovels. The planter and his overseer were obliged to do their own hasty packing up.
The plantation was in the hands of a warm-hearted Christian gentleman from Massachusetts, Mr. Norton. The people of the estate gathered for worship in the large parlor of the house.
The room was eighteen or twenty feet square, and had a wide-mouthed fireplace, in which a cheerful fire of pitch knots was blazing. There was a settee, a mahogany sideboard, where the former owner was accustomed to quaff his wines and liquors. Seats and chairs were brought in. The big dinner-bell was rung, and the people, thirty or forty in number, came in, men, women, and children. Some of the women brought their infants. Uncle Jim, the patriarch of the plantation, was too feeble to attend. The superintendent, Mr. Norton, comforted his heart by reading to him a chapter in the Bible and offering prayers in the miserable cabin, where the old man was lying on a pile of rags. Uncle Jim was a sincere Christian. The word of God was sweet to him. His heart overflowed with thanks and praise, for the display of God's great goodness to him and his people.
A hymn was lined off by Mr. Norton, after the fashion of our fathers. William, a stout, middle-aged man, struck into St. Martin's, and the congregation joined, not reading the music exactly as good old Tansur composed it, for there were crooks, turns, slurs, and appoggiaturas, not to be found in any printed copy. It was sung harshly, nasally, and dragged out in long, slow notes.
A pure-blooded negro, Sancho, offered prayer. He had seen great hardship in life and had suffered more than his namesake, the squire, who was once unceremoniously tossed in a blanket. His prayer was the free utterance of a warm heart. It was a familiar talk with Jesus, his best friend. He improved the opportunity to mingle an exhortation with his supplication. He thus addressed the unconverted:—
"O, my poor, impenitent fellow-sinner, what you think you are doing? Where you think you are going? Death will ride up soon in a big black carriage and take you wid him down to de regions of deep darkness. Why don't you repent now, and den he will carry you up into de light of paradise!"
Looking forward to the hour of the Christian's release from the bondage of this life, he said, in conclusion, "And now, good Lord, when we have done chaw all de hard bones and swallowed all de bitter pills, we trust de good Lord will take us to himself."
After an address from the superintendent, Sancho rose.
"My belobed friends," said he, "I neber 'spected to see such a day as dis yere. For twenty years, I hired my time of old massa, I was 'bleeged to pay him twelve dollars a month in advance, and if I didn't hab de money ready, he wollopped me. But I's a free man now. De good Lord hab done it all. I can't read. It is de great desire ob my heart to learn to read, so dat I can read de Bible all my own self; but I's too old to learn. But I rejoice dat my chillen can hab de opportunity to study de precious word. De Lord is doin great tings for us in dese yere days. Ole massa, was a purty good massa, and I prays de Lord to make him lay down his weapons ob rebellion and become a good Union man and a disciple ob de Lord Jesus, for Jesus tells us dat we must lub our enemies."
After the exercises of the religious meeting were concluded,the chairs were set aside, and they began a "praise meeting," or singing meeting. Most of their music is plaintive. The piece frequently commences with a recitative by one voice, and at the end of the first line the chorus joins. The words are often improvised to suit the occasion.
A favorite song is "Roll, Jordan, roll," in which the progression of the melody is very descriptive of the rolling of waves upon the beach. There are many variations of the melody, but that here given is as I heard it sung by the negroes of Bythewood.
Listen|See musical notation
ROLL JORDAN.
Little children sitting on the tree of life. To hear the Jordan roll; Oroll, Jordan roll, Jordan roll, Jordan roll. We march the angel march, Omarch the angel march, O my soul is rising heavenward To hear the Jordan roll.
The verses vary only in recitation. If Mr. Jones is present he will hear, "Mr. Jones is sitting on the tree of life." There is no pause, and before the last roll is ended the one giving the recitative places another personage on the tree, and thus Jordan rolls along.
As the song goes on the enthusiasm rises. They sing louderand stronger. The recitative is given with increased vigor, and the chorus swells with increasing volume. They beat time, at first, with their hands, then their feet. They rise from their seats. William begins to shuffle his feet. Anna, a short, thick-set woman, wearing a checkered dress, and an apron, which once was a window-curtain, claps her hands, makes a short, quick jerk of her body, stamps her feet on the unaccented part of the measure, keeping exact syncopation. Catherine and Sancho catch the inspiration. They go round in a circle, shuffling, jerking, shouting louder and louder, while those outside of the circle respond with increasing vigor, all stamping, clapping their hands, and rolling out the chorus. William seems to be in a trance, his eyes are fixed, yet he goes on with a double-shuffle, till the perspiration stands in beads upon his face. Every joint seems hung on wires. Feet, legs, arms, head, body, and hands swing and jump like a child's dancing Dandy Jim. Sancho enters into it with all his heart, soul, mind, and might, clapping his hands, rolling his eyes, looking upward in ecstasy and outward upon the crowd, as if he were their spiritual father and guardian.
Thus it went on till nature was exhausted. When the meeting broke up, they all came round in procession, shaking hands with the superintendent and the strangers present, and singing a parting song,
"There's a meeting here to-night!"
The superintendent informed me that the children who attended school could not be coaxed to take part in those praise meetings. They had learned to sing Sunday-school songs, and evidently looked upon the plantation songs of their fathers and mothers as belonging to their bondage and not worthy to be sung now that they were free.
A short distance from Hilton Head is the town of Mitchelville, laid out by the lamented astronomer, General Mitchell, who fell a victim to the yellow-fever in the summer of 1862. The town is on a broad sandy plain, bordered by groves and thickets of live-oak, palmetto, and the coast pine.
At that time there were about seventy houses,—or cabins rather,—of the rudest description, built of logs, chinked with clay brought up from the beach, roofs of long split shingles,board floors, windows with shutters,—plain board blinds, without sash or glass. Each house had a quarter of an acre of land attached. There was no paint or lime, not even whitewash, about them. It was just such a place as might be expected in a new country, where there were no saw-mills or brick-kilns,—a step in advance of a hole in the ground or a bark wigwam. It was the beginning of the experiment of civilization on the part of a semi-barbarous people just released from abject bondage, and far from being free men.
I looked into the first cabin, and seeing an old man sitting before the fire, greeted him with "How do you do, Uncle?" the sobriquet of all middle-aged negro men.
"'Pears how I'm rather poorly,—I's got de chills, boss."
He was a slave in Florida, made his escape from his master's plantation fifty miles inland, reached Fernandina, and entered the lines of the Union army. He was dressed in pants made of old sailcloth, and the tattered cast-off blouse of a Union soldier. The room was twelve feet square. I could see through the chinking in a hundred places. At the coping of the roof, where it should have joined the wall, there was a wide opening all around, which allowed all the warmth to escape. The furniture consisted of three tables, four chairs, a mahogany wash-stand, all of which once stood in the mansion of some island planter. There was a Dutch-oven on the hearth, the sight of which made my mouth water for the delicious tea-cakes of childhood. There were pots, kettles, baskets, and bags, and a pile of rags, old blankets which the soldiers had thrown aside. It required but a few words to thaw out Uncle Jacob, who at once commenced fumbling in his pockets, producing, after a studious search, a brown paper, carefully folded, enclosing the name of a gentleman in New York who had taken home Uncle Jacob's nephew. He wanted me to read it to him,—the name, the street, the number,—that he might learn it by heart.
"He is learning to write, boss, and I shall have a letter from him by and by," said the old man, in glee. He handed me three letters, all from men who once were slaves, not written by them individually, but by amanuenses. One was a sailor on the gunboat Ottawa, off Charleston; one was in New York city, and the third in Ohio.
"Please, boss, I should like to hab you read 'em," he said.
It was a pleasure to gratify the kind-hearted man, who listened with satisfaction beaming from every line of his countenance.
Uncle Jacob had been five months in the employ of the United States, unloading vessels at Hilton Head, and had received only his rations and a little clothing.
"Well, Uncle Jacob, which would you rather be, a freeman or a slave?" I asked.
"O, Lor' bless you, boss, I wouldn't like to be a slave again."
"Do you think you can take care of yourself?"
"Jes let gubberment pay me, boss, and see if I can't."
It was spoken with great earnestness.
In the next cabin I found Peter, who had taken the name of Brown, that of his former master. Slavery gave its victims but one name. General Mitchell said that they were entitled to another name, and he ordered that they should take that of their former masters; hence there are Peter Beauregards, James Trenholms, Susan Rhetts, Julia Barnwells, on the plantations of the Sea Islands.
"Mr. Brown, did you ever hear about the Abolitionists?" I asked.
"Yes, sir, tank you, I's he'd of 'em."
"What did you hear about them?"
"O, dey is a werry bad sort of people, sir. Old massa said dat if dey could get a chance dey would take all our pickaninnies and smash der brains out agin de trees!"
"Did you ever see an Abolitionist?"
"No, sir, tank you, nebber saw one."
"Well, Mr. Brown, I am one."
Mr. Brown started involuntarily. He looked me all over from head to feet, giving a keen search. "'Pears how I shouldn't tink you could hab de heart to do it, sir."
"Do I look as though I should like to kill your little ones?"
"No, sir, I don't tink you would."
I told him who the Abolitionists were, and what they wishedto do,—that they were friends of the slaves, and always had been. He grasped my hand, and said, "God bless you, sir." And then burst into hearty laughter.
Having been informed that it would be impossible to obtain a fowl of the negroes at that season of the year, I made the attempt; but though I offered treble the value, not one would part with a hen. They were looking forward to broods of chickens which would bring them in "heaps" of money in the fall of the year. The negro race understands the value of money quite as well as we who boast of Anglo-Saxon blood.
Entering the head-quarters of the commanding officer one day, I saw a thin, spare colored woman sitting before the fire. She nodded and smiled, ran her eyes over me, as if to take in every feature or peculiarity of my person and dress, then gazed into the fire and seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. A friend said, "That is our Sojourner Truth."
She had brought off several companies of negroes from the mainland, and had given a great deal of information concerning the movements of the Rebels. She had penetrated swamps, endured hardships, eluded Rebel pickets, visiting the plantations at midnight, and conversing with the slaves.
"I can travel all through the South, I reckon," she said.
"Are you not afraid that the Rebels will catch you?"
"Well, honey, I reckon they couldn't keep me," she said, with a smile.
She had exhibited such remarkable shrewdness and finesse in her exploits, and had rendered such valuable services to the department, that she was held in high esteem.
At that time, Mrs. Frances D. Gage, favorably known as a writer for the press, was residing on Paris Island. Seated one evening by the bright fire blazing on her hearth, I listened to her narrative of Sojourner Truth, who had been a slave, who had penetrated the far South in search of her lost children, who had run off many slaves to Canada, and who went round the country, impelled by the conviction that she had been called of God to testify against the sins of the people; hence her name, "Sojourner Truth."