Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: May 12, 1864

Thunder, lightning, and rain all day.

The report of Gen. Lee's victory was premature, and Butler has not gone, nor the raiders vanished. On the contrary, the latter were engaged in battle with Stuart's division late in the afternoon, and recommenced it this morning at 3 o'clock, the enemy remaining on the ground, and still remain, some five miles from where I write. Major-Gen. J. E. B. Stuart was wounded last evening, through the kidney, and now lies in the city, in a dying condition! Our best generals thus fall around us.

The battle raged furiously; every gun distinctly heard at our house until 1 P.M.—the enemy being intrenched between our middle and outer line of works. Meantime our ambulances are arriving every hour with the wounded, coming in by the Brooke Turnpike.

The battalion my sons are in lost none of its men, though shelled by the enemy early in the morning; nor do we know that our battery did any execution. Capt. Warner delivered the provisions their mother cooked for them yesterday. He saw only Custis, who gladly received the bread, and meat, and eggs; but he and Tom were both drenched with rain, as they had no shelter yesterday. But a comrade, and one of Custis's Latin pupils, whom I saw, returned on sick leave, says Thomas stands the fatigue and exposure better than Custis, who was complaining.

About 11 A.M. to-day there was very heavy reports of cannon heard in the direction of Drewry's Bluff, supposed to be our battery shelling the country below, for some purpose.

I understand one or more of our iron-clads will certainly go out this evening, or to-night; we shall know it when it occurs, for the firing will soon follow.

Worked in my garden; set out corn and (yellow) tomatoes ; the former given me by my neighbor, to whom I had given lettuce and beet plants.

My wife spent a miserable day, some one having reported that the Departmental Battalion was cut to pieces in the battle. When I came in, she asked me if Custis and Thomas were alive, and was exceedingly glad to know not a man in the company had been even wounded.

I shall never forget the conformation of the clouds this morning as the storm arose. There were different strata running in various directions. They came in heaviest volume from the southeast in parallel lines, like lines of battle swooping over the city. There were at the same time shorter and fuller lines from the southwest, and others from the north. The meeting of these was followed by tremendous clashes of lightning and thunder; and between the pauses of the artillery of the elements above, the thunder of artillery on earth could be distinctly heard. Oh that the strife were ended! But Richmond is to be defended at all hazards.

It is said, however, that preparations have been made for the flight of the President, cabinet, etc. up the Danville Road, in the event of the fall of the city. Yet no one fears that the present forces environing it could take it. If Lee withstands Grant another week, all will be safe. My greatest fear is the want of provisions. My wife bought a half bushel of meal; so we have a week's supply on hand, as we were not quite out. I hope Beauregard will soon restore communication with the South.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 206-7

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 23, 1864

Our young relative, Lientenant G., a member of General Stuart's staff, who was always near his person, has just been giving us a most gratifying account of General Stuart's habits. He says, that although he considered him one of the most sprightly men he has ever seen, devoted to society, particularly to that of the ladies, always social and cheerful, yet he has never seen him do any thing, even under the strongest excitement, unbecoming his Christian profession or his high position as a soldier; he never saw him drink, or heard an oath escape his lips; his sentiments were always high-minded, pure, and honourable, and his actions entirely coincided with them. In short, he considered him, whether on the field or in the private circle, the model of a Christian gentleman and soldier. When speaking of his gallantry as an officer, Lientenant G's admiration knows no bounds. He speaks of the devotion of the soldiers to him as enthusiastic in the extreme. The evening before his fatal wound, he sent his troops on in pursuit of Sheridan, under the command of General Fitz Lee, as he was unavoidably detained for some three or four hours. General Lee overtook the enemy, and a sharp skirmish ensued, in which Sheridan's rear suffered very much. In the mean time, General Stuart determined to overtake General Lee, and, with his staff, rode very rapidly sixteen miles, and reached him about nightfall. They were halting for a few moments, as General Stuart rode up quietly, no one suspecting he was there, until a plain-looking soldier crossed the road, stopped, peered through the darkness into his face, and shouted out, “Old Jeb has come!” In an instant the air was rent with huzzas. General Stuart waved his cap in recognition; but called out in rather a sad voice, “My friends, we won't halloo until we get out of the woods!” intimating that there was serious work before them. At that hour the next night he was pursuing his weary and suffering way to Richmond. A friend, who knows how much I regretted not being able to serve General Stuart in any way, or even to be at his funeral, has been so kind as to write me a minute account of his sickness, death, and burial. "Perhaps (she says) it is not generally known how entirely General Stuart sacrificed his life to save Richmond. An officer of high rank, who knew the circumstances, told me that in all the war there was not one man more truly a martyr to our cause. In the many raids upon Richmond there was none in which we seemed in such imminent peril as the one in which General Stuart has just fallen. How we listened, and watched, and prayed, as the cannon sounded nearer and nearer, and even the volleys of musketry could be heard out on the roads by which the enemy were approaching! We knew that General Stuart had a band of about 2,000 cavalry against overwhelming odds on the Yankee side, and that he knew that upon this 2,000 men alone it depended to bar the enemy's approach on that side. He met the Yankees, 5,000 strong, beat them back, and fell in the encounter! It was with difficulty that he could be rescued from those who were bearing him away, but one of his own troopers saved him, and with his staff and surgeon (Dr. John Fontaine) bore him to the city. We heard that he was dying, and, in spite of the anxiety and confusion reigning at such a time, many of us rushed to Dr. Brewer's house to hear tidings of the beloved commander, whose gallantry, whose youthful gayety and chivalrous character, made him the prince among our cavalry officers. His life was ebbing out from internal hemorrhage; but his senses were as clear and his mind as calm as noontide. He asked repeatedly for his wife, who, though but fifteen miles away, could not be reached, so completely was the city hemmed in by the enemy. By his side stood our President, who, upon hearing of his situation, had hastened to thank him in the name of his country. “I have but done my duty,” was the soldier's reply. And near him was the minister of God, good Mr. Peterkin, of whose church (Episcopal) General S. was a member. He asked for his favourite hymn, and joined his feeble voice with the touching words: “I would not live alway.” From time to time, he turned his head to ask, “Is she come?” But she, for whom his loving heart so yearned, came not till that heart was stilled forever. At the funeral — at the head of his coffin — sat the soldier who had rescued him, all battle-stained and soiled; and near by, the members of his staff, who all adored him. Upon the coffin lay a sword, formed of delicate white flowers, a cross of white roses, and above these the heavenly crown, symbolized by one of green bay-leaves. We followed him to the church, where, after appropriate ceremonies, attended by many persons, his body was taken to Hollywood Cemetery. No martial pomp, no soldier's funeral, but —

“‘Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;

We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,

But we left him alone with his glory.'

Everybody was struck with the resemblance to the funeral so beautifully described in the lines just quoted. As we passed, in slow procession—

“‘We knew by the distant and random gun,

That the foe was sullenly firing.'

These guns were his funeral knell, sounding at intervals the solemn peal, with which, in the haste and uncertainty of the time, it was impossible for us to honour him.”

One of the morning papers has some lines on the same subject, more poetic, though not so graphic, as the account given by my friend:

“J. E. B. STUART.

"We could not pause, while yet the noontide air

Shook with the cannonade's incessant pealing,

The funeral pageant, fitly to prepare,

A nation's grief revealing.

"The smoke above the glimmering woodland wide,

That skirts our southward border with its beauty.

Marked where our heroes stood, and fought and died.

For love, and faith, and duty

"And still what time the doubtful strife went on,

We might not find expression for our sorrow;

We could but lay our dear, dumb warrior down,

And gird us for the morrow.

"One weary year ago, when came a lull

With victory, in the conflicts' stormy closes,

When the glad Spring, all flushed and beautiful,

First mocked us with her roses—

"With dirge and bell, and minute-gun, we paid

Some few poor rites, an inexpressive token

Of a great people's pain, to Jackson's shade,

In agony unspoken.

"No wailing trumpet, and no tolling bell,

No cannon, save the battle's boom receding,

When Stuart to the grave we bore, might tell

With hearts all crushed and bleeding.

"The crisis suited not with pomp, and she,

Whose anguish bears the seal of consecration,

Had wished his Christian obsequies should be

Thus void of ostentation.

"Only the maidens came, sweet flowers to twine

Above his form, so still, and cold, and painless,

Whose deeds upon our brightest records shine,

Whose life and sword were stainless.

"We well remembered how he loved to dash

Into the fight, festooned from summer bowers

How like a fountain's spray, his sabre's flash

Leaped from a mass of flowers.

"And so we carried to his place of rest,

All that of our Paladin was mortal;

The cross, and not the sabre, on his breast,

That opes the heavenly portal.

"No more of tribute might to us remain;

But there will come a time when freedom's martyrs

A richer guerdon of renown shall gain

Than gleams in stars and garters.

"I claim no prophet's vision, but I see,

Through coming years now near at hand, now distant,

My rescued country, glorious and free,

And strong and self-existent.

"I hear from out that sunlit land which lies

Beyond these clouds which darkly gather o'er us,

The happy sounds of industry arise,

In swelling, peaceful chorus.

"And mingling with these sounds, the glad acclaim

Of millions, undisturbed by war's afflictions,

Crowning each martyr's never-dying name

With grateful benedictions.

"In some fair, future garden of delights,

Where flowers shall bloom, and song-birds sweetly warble.

Art shall erect the statues of our knights,

In living bronze and marble.

"And none of all that bright, heroic throng

Shall wear to far-off time a semblance grander,

Shall still be decked with fresher wreaths of song,

Than the beloved commander.

"The Spanish legends tell us of the Cid,

That after death he rode erect and stately

Along his lines, e'en as in life he did,

In presence yet more stately.

"And thus our Stuart at this moment seems

To ride out of our dark and troubled story,

Into the region of romance and dreams,

A realm of light and glory.

"And sometimes when the silver bugles blow,

That radiant form in battle reappearing,

Shall lead his horsemen headlong on the foe,

In victory careering."

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 269-74

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: May 14, 1864

The cavalry fight on the Chickahominy was very severe. The Yankees escaped on Thursday night; they should not have been allowed to get off. Our sad deficiency in numbers is always in our way.

The death of another of our beloved E. H. S. boys has shocked us greatly — I mean that of Colonel Robert Randolph, of Fauquier, for a long time the chivalric captain of the famous “Black Horse Company.” After fighting desperately for hours, he was ordered to change his position; he immediately raised himself in his saddle, exclaiming, “Boys, we will give them one round more before we go!” fired, and was at that moment struck in the forehead by a Minié ball, and laid low, a few hours after the fall of his General. Thus our young men, of the first blood of the country — first in character and education, and, what is more important to us now, first in gallantry and patriotism — fall one by one. What a noble army of martyrs has already passed away! I tremble for the future ; but we must not think of the future. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”

General Lee's last telegram tells of a furious fight on Thursday, near Spottsylvania Court-House. The enemy was repulsed, and driven back; and yet General Grant prepares for a fresh attack. It is said that 15,000 wounded Yankees are in Fredericksburg. We have heard cannon all day in the direction of Drury's Bluff; yet we are calm!

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 267-8

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Thusday, May 12, 1864

The cannon is now roaring in our ears. It cannot be more than three miles off. The Lord reigneth; in that is our trust. There was a severe cavalry fight yesterday morning, in which our brilliant cavalry leader, General J. E. B. Stuart, was severely wounded. He was brought to the city last night. One of his aids, our relative, Lientenant T. S. Garnett, has told us with what difficulty they got him here; in an ambulance, going out of the way, hither and thither, to avoid the enemy; of course, every jolt inflicting intense agony. He is now at the house of his brother-in-law, Dr. Brewer, surrounded by the most efficient surgeons and devoted friends. The prayers of the community are with him.

My time, when out of the office, is much absorbed by the hospital. Many wounded are brought in from both sides of the river. This morning, as I entered St. James's Church, I saw the smoke from the cannon distinctly. I stood for a moment on the steps and listened to the continued roaring, and felt that the contest was fearfully near to us. The prayers, hymns, psalms, and address were most comforting. God be praised for his goodness, that we are still surrounded by Christian people, and have the faith and trust of Christians. The town is as calm as if it were not the great object of desire to hundreds of thousands of implacable enemies, who desire nothing so much as its destruction.

General Lee's telegram last night gave us an account of another repulse given General Grant, with great slaughter. “We suffered little in comparison;” such was his telegram, signed “R. E. Lee.” His signature is always cheering to our people. For some time we had not seen it, in consequence of cut telegraphic wires. Both armies are now fortifying. The Yankees have such indomitable perseverance, that they will never give up.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 266-7

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, May 24, 1864

May 24, 1864

We started quite early — a little before six — to go towards the North Anna; and halted at Mt. Carmel Church, where this road from Moncure's strikes the "telegraph road" (so called, because the telegraph from Fredericksburg ran along it). If you want a horrible hole for a halt, just pick out a Virginia church, at a Virginia cross-roads, after the bulk of an army has passed, on a hot, dusty Virginia day! There was something rather funny, too. For in the broad aisle they had laid across some boards and made a table, round which sat Meade, Grant, General Williams, etc., writing on little slips of paper. It looked precisely like a town-hall, where people are coming to vote, only the people had unaccountably put on very dusty uniforms. General Meade is of a perverse nature; when he gets in a disagreeable place, he is apt to stay there. I think he likes to have officers who are prone to comfort feel decidedly uncomfortable. That reminds me of an anecdote. The day before yesterday, when we had our bloody attack along the whole line, General Meade had ordered his whole Staff ready at four in the morning. Now, such people as the Judge-Advocate-General are Staff officers and at Headquarters, but not aides. Ours is an old army officer, with many characteristics of a part of his class, that is, rather lazy and quite self-sufficient. He came to the front with us and staid some time; but, as dinner-time approached, late in the afternoon, he thought it would be bright to go to the camp and arrange a snug dinner. Pretty soon the suspicious and not very kindly gray eyes of the chief began to roll about curiously. “General Williams! did you give orders that all my Staff should accompany me?” “Yes, sir; certainly, sir.” (Seth is rather scared at his superior, as are many more.) “Where is Major Platt?” “I think he must have gone to camp for a moment, sir.” “Send at once for him!” In no great time the Major arrived at a gallop. “Major Platt,” said the General slowly and solemnly, “I wish you to ride along our whole lines (possibly about eight miles) and ascertain as accurately as possible the amount of our casualties during the day!” Somewhere about nine o'clock that night Platt returned with his statement, having missed a nice, six o'clock dinner, and happily been missed by stray balls and shells. . . .

I am glad to hear that you take once more an interest in the furniture coverings; an excellent sign! Keep a-going; that's the way! That is the way I do: heart in my mouth for half a day; then come home and eat a good supper; there is no use in “borrowing trouble” — you do learn that here. You know I am not sanguine in my military hopes; but I have the strongest hopes of ultimate success, taking into consideration the uncertainty of war. You must go by the general features; and these are: 1st: Watchfulness, caution, and military conduct of our generals. 2d: The defensive attitude of the enemy; an attitude which Lee never assumes unless driven to it. 3d: The obstinacy and general reliability of our troops. 4th: The fact, that we have worked them, from one position to another, to within nine miles of Richmond across a highly defensible country. 5th: That their counter-attacks on us have been few and comparatively weak, and of no great moment, showing that they have no large force with a “free foot”; but have to put all their men on their lines. Nevertheless, I look on the future as still long and full of the common hazards of war. If the Rebels are forced to abandon Richmond, I believe the effect would be very heavy on them. This I judge not only on general grounds but also from the stupendous efforts, the general concentration, they are using to defend it. Do not, for a moment, look for the “annihilation,” the “hiving,” or the “total rout” of Lee. Such things exist only in the New York Herald.

To return to our Mt. Carmel. About seven came a negro who reported the whole Rebel army retreating on Richmond — a vague expression which left them room to halt anywhere this side of it. Soon after “Tick” Wadsworth — son of the late General — came in from General Sheridan and reported the cavalry corps at Dunkirk. This was welcome news to us. Sheridan had been sent on a raid towards Richmond and had destroyed railroads and depots of stores to a considerable extent. Also recaptured some hundreds of our prisoners on their way to the capital. He was delayed on his return by the rise of the Pamunkey, but got pontoons from Fortress Monroe and crossed it. On his way down, Stuart's cavalry tried to stop him, but he pitched into them, took two guns and a number of prisoners, and killed Stuart, driving off his command completely. It is curious that the southern cavalry cannot now cope with ours. We have beaten them every time this campaign; whereas their infantry are a full match for us. Sheridan was a great help on his return, to watch our flanks and threaten the enemy's rear. . . . About ten there came in a very entertaining nigger, who had been servant of Colonel Baldwin, Rebel Chief of Ordnance. He gave a funny description of Lee's Headquarters. From him and from other sources I judge that the reports of Lee's humble mode of living are true. He has only corn bread and bacon for the "chief of his diet," and this sets an example to all his men. There can be no doubt that Lee is a man of very high character (which you may reconcile as you may with his treacherous abandonment of the flag). He carries on war in a merciful and civilized way, his correspondence is dignified and courteous, and his despatches are commonly (not always) frank and not exaggerated.

General Meade got awfully mad, while waiting at the church. There came a cipher despatch from Sherman, in the West. Mr. Dana, Assistant Secretary of War, hastened — with considerable want of tact — to read it to the General. Sherman therein told Grant that the Army of the West, having fought, could now afford to manoeuvre, and that, if his (Grant's) inspiration could make the Army of the Potomac do its share, success would crown our efforts. The eyes of Major-General George Gordon Meade stood out about one inch as he said, in a voice like cutting an iron bar with a handsaw: “Sir! I consider that despatch an insult to the army I command and to me personally. The Army of the Potomac does not require General Grant’s inspiration or anybody's else inspiration to make it fight!” He did not get over it all day, and, at dinner, spoke of the western army as “an armed rabble.” General Grant, who is one of the most candid men I ever saw, has repeatedly said that this fighting throws in the shade everything he ever saw, and that he looked for no such resistance. Colonel Comstock and others, who have fought with both armies, say distinctly that our troops are fifty per cent better than the western, and that the good Rebel soldiers have always been kept near Richmond except when Longstreet went temporarily to the West. At dusk we rode down to cross the North Anna, midst a fearful thunderstorm; some of the lightning fell so near that it really hissed, which was disagreeable, as there was an ammunition train close by. The North Anna is a pretty stream, running between high banks, so steep that they form almost a ravine, and, for the most part, heavily wooded with oak and tulip trees, very luxuriant. It is perhaps 125 feet wide and runs with a tolerably swift and deep stream, in most places over one's head. The approaches are by steep roads cut down the banks, and how our waggons and artillery got across, I don't know! Indeed I never do know how the trains get up, seeing that you are not over well off, sometimes, on a horse. . . .

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 122-7

Major-General George G. Meade to Margaretta Sergeant Mead, May 16, 1864 – 9 A. M.

May 16, 9 A. M.

The weather still continues unfavorable for military operations, so, unless the enemy attack us, we shall probably remain quiet to-day. Our cavalry, under Sheridan, have been heard from. He was sent to get in the enemy's rear, destroy their communications and supplies, fight their cavalry, and when his forage was exhausted, make his way to Butler,¹ on the James River. He reports having executed his orders, and it is said that J. E. B. Stuart was killed in the battle with Sheridan.²

_______________

¹ General Benjamin F. Butler, commanding the Army of the James.

² Battle of Yellow Tavern, near Richmond, Va., May 11, 1864.

SOURCE: George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Vol. 2, p. 195-6