Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Saturday, June 20, 1863

Armed with letters of introduction from the Secretary-at-War for Generals Lee and Longstreet, I left Richmond at 6 A.M., to join the Virginian army. I was accompanied by a sergeant of the Signal Corps, sent by my kind friend Major Norris, for the purpose of assisting me in getting on. We took the train as far as Culpepper, and arrived there at 5.30 P.M., after having changed cars at Gordonsville, near which place I observed an enormous pile of excellent rifles rotting in the open air. These had been captured at Chancellorsville; but the Confederates have already such a superabundant stock of rifles that apparently they can afford to let them spoil. The weather was quite cool after the rain of last night. The country through which we passed had been in the enemy's hands last year, and was evacuated by them after the battles before Richmond; but at that time it was not their custom to burn, destroy, and devastate — everything looked green and beautiful, and did not in the least give one the idea of a hot country.

In his late daring raid, the Federal General Stoneman crossed this railroad, and destroyed a small portion of it, burned a few buildings, and penetrated to within three miles of Richmond; but he and his men were in such a hurry that they had not time to do much serious harm.

Culpepper was, until five days ago, the headquarters of Generals Lee and Longstreet; but since Ewell's recapture of Winchester, the whole army had advanced with rapidity, and it was my object to catch it up as quickly as possible. On arriving at Culpepper, my sergeant handed me over to another myrmidon of Major Norris, with orders from that officer to supply me with a horse, and take me himself to join Mr Lawley, who had passed through for the same purpose as myself three days before.

Sergeant Norris, my new chaperon, is cousin to Major Norris, and is a capital fellow. Before the war he was a gentleman of good means in Maryland, and was accustomed to a life of luxury; he now lives the life of a private soldier with perfect contentment, and is utterly indifferent to civilisation and comfort. Although he was unwell when I arrived, and it was pouring with rain, he proposed that we should start at once — 6 P.M. I agreed, and we did so. Our horses had both sore backs, were both unfed, except on grass, and mine was deficient of a shoe. They nevertheless travelled well, and we reached a hamlet called Woodville, fifteen miles distant, at 9.30. We had great difficulty in procuring shelter; but at length we overcame the inhospitality of a native, who gave us a feed of corn for our horses, and a blanket on the floor for ourselves.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three Months in the Southern States: April-June, 1863, p. 224

Major Charles Fessenden Morse: May 20, 1864

Cassville, Ga., May 20, 1864.

I take this, my first opportunity since the fight of the 15th, to let you know that I am alive and well. I will tell you briefly what we have done since my last letter was written from near Ringgold.

May 7th, we marched about seven miles to Trickam P. O., taking up our position in line opposite Buzzard's Roost, which the enemy held in force. On the 8th and 9th we lay quietly in bivouac.

About seven A.M., on the 10th, we were moved off by a circuitous route to the southwest, passing through Snake Creek Gap in the afternoon, and camping at its outlet in the rear of McPhereon's force. During May 12th the whole army, with the exception of the Fourth Corps and Stoneman's cavalry, concentrated in our vicinity. On the 13th everything moved forward towards Resaca, going into position near the enemy, and endeavors were made to bring on a general engagement; nothing more than skirmishing resulted, however.

On the 14th, fighting began early and lasted throughout the day; late in the afternoon we moved to the extreme left, where Howard (who had come down from Dalton) had been heavily engaged and worsted. We double-quicked into line, and opened on the rebels as they were advancing with a yell to take a battery from which they had driven our men; our fire checked them, then drove them back, and we advanced with a cheer, regaining all the lost ground. By the time we had done this, it was eight o'clock and bright moonlight, so our line was halted and strengthened during the night by a strong line of works. Early next morning, our regiment was selected to make a reconnoisance in our front to discover the position of the enemy. This was a very delicate manoeuvre, but was capitally executed by Colonel Coggswell with the loss of only two men; the regiment behaved perfectly, not firing a shot, though under quite a disagreeable fire from skirmishers.

We developed the enemy's line and then returned, having done exactly what we were ordered to do. Soon after our return, our whole corps (now about twenty-two thousand strong), was massed for a tremendous attack on the enemy's right. At one P. M., we moved rapidly forward and became at once engaged; our regiment was in the front line, supported on the left by the Twenty-seventh Indiana and on the right by the Third Wisconsin. We advanced about a half mile and then were stopped by a line of breastworks. Our skirmishers crawled to within a hundred yards of them, and our line formed close in the rear. We were hardly settled in position when the enemy massed quite a body of troops in our immediate front and advanced to the attack, with the evident intention of turning our left, which had become somewhat exposed; our regiment and the Twenty-seventh Indiana marched forward and met them with a cheer half way, and poured a terrible fire into their ranks, following it up with the “Virginia” style of shooting. The enemy seemed perfectly astonished, and fired wild and high; in less than half an hour, we had fairly whipped, with our two regiments, a rebel brigade of five regiments, killing and capturing large numbers of them; our right and left did equally well. Night came on and the fighting ceased. The next morning, on advancing, we found no enemy. Since then, by a series of marches, we have reached this place. Yesterday, we came up with the enemy and had a very lively skirmish; they left during the night. To-day we have been resting. The news from Virginia is grand, but the details terrible. So far, our losses in the regiment have been about thirty killed and wounded, no officers hurt. This is written in haste and with very little idea when it can be mailed.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 164-6

Diary of Dolly Lunt Burge: July 29, 1864

Sleepless nights. The report is that the Yankees have left Covington for Macon, headed by Stoneman, to release prisoners held there. They robbed every house on the road of its provisions, sometimes taking every piece of meat, blankets and wearing apparel, silver and arms of every description. They would take silk dresses and put them under their saddles, and many other things for which they had no use. Is this the way to make us love them and their Union? Let the poor people answer whom they have deprived of every mouthful of meat and of their livestock to make any! Our mills, too, they have burned, destroying an immense amount of property.

SOURCE: Dolly Lunt Burge, A Woman's Wartime Journal, p. 9-10

Diary of Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle: Saturday, April 25, 1863

San Antonio is prettily situated on both banks of the river of the same name. It should contain about 10,000 inhabitants, and is the largest place in Texas, except Galveston.

The houses are well built of stone, and they are generally only one or two storeys high. All have verandahs in front.

Before the war San Antonio was very prosperous, and rapidly increasing in size; but trade is now almost at a complete stand-still. All the male population under forty are in the military service, and many necessary articles are at famine prices. Coffee costs $7 a lb.

Menger's hotel is a large and imposing edifice, but its proprietor (a civil German) was on the point of shutting it up for the present.

During the morning I visited Colonel Bankhead, a tall, gentlemanlike Virginian, who was commanding officer of the troops here. He told me a great deal about the Texan history, the Jesuit missions, and the Louisiana purchase, &c.; and he alarmed me by doubting whether I should be able to cross the Mississippi if Banks had taken Alexandria.

I also made the acquaintance of Major Minter, another Virginian, who told me he had served in the 2d cavalry in the old United States army. The following officers in the Confederate army were in the same regiment—viz., General A. S. Johnston (killed at Shiloh), General Lee, General Van Dorn, General Hardee, General Kirby Smith, and General Hood*

By the advice of M'Carthy, I sent my portmanteau and some of my heavy things to be sold by auction, as I could not possibly carry them with me.

I took my place by the stage for Alleyton (Houston): it cost $40; in old times it was $13.

I dined with M'Carthy and young Duff at 3 P.M. The latter would not bear of my paying my share of the expenses of the journey from Brownsville. Mrs M'Carthy was thrown into a great state of agitation and delight by receiving a letter from her mother, who is in Yankeedom. Texas is so cut off that she only hears once in many months.

Colonel and Mrs Bankhead called for me in their ambulance at 5 P.M., and they drove me to see the source of the San Antonio, which is the most beautiful clear spring I ever saw. We also saw the extensive foundations for a tannery now being built by the Confederate Government.

The country is very pretty, and is irrigated in an ingenious manner by ditches cut from the river in all directions. It is thus in a great degree rendered independent of rain.

At San Antonio spring we were entertained by a Major Young, a queer little naval officer, — why a major I couldn't discover.

Mrs Bankhead is a violent Southerner. She was twice ordered out of Memphis by the Federals on account of her husband's principles; but she says that she was treated with courtesy and kindness by the Federal General Sherman, who carried out the orders of his Government with regret.

None of the Southern people with whom I have spoken entertain any hopes of a speedy termination of the war. They say it must last all Lincoln's presidency, and perhaps a good deal longer.

In the neighbourhood of San Antonio, one-third of the population is German, and many of them were at first by no means loyal to the Confederate cause. They objected much to the conscription, and some even resisted by force of arms; but these were soon settled by Duff's regiment, and it is said they are now reconciled to the new regime.

My portmanteau, with what was in it — for I gave away part of my things — sold for $323. Its value in England couldn't have been more than £8 or £9. The portmanteau itself, which was an old one, fetched $51; a very old pair of butcher boots, $32; five shirts $42; an old overcoat $25.

_______________

* Also the Federal Generals Thomas and Stoneman.

SOURCE: Sir Arthur James Lyon Fremantle, Three months in the southern states: April-June, 1863, p. 49-52

Captain Charles Fessenden Morse: April 6, 1863

Headquarters Twelfth Army Corps,

April 6, 1863.

I wish you could have seen the great military display there was near here yesterday. You probably have seen by the papers that President Abe is paying a visit to the army; he came down in the great snow-storm Saturday night. Well, yesterday was appointed for a grand review of all the cavalry and horse artillery in the army. All the Major-Generals and many of the Brigadiers with their staffs were invited to be present. Our cortege left these headquarters about half-past ten. We made a pretty good show by ourselves; there were five general officers, namely; Major-General Slocum, Brigadier-Generals Williams, Ruger, Knipe and Jackson, with their staffs and escorts, all in full fig. We rode about seven miles to the reviewing ground and got there just as the President, General Hooker and their large retinue arrived; the artillery fired the salute and the review commenced.

In the centre opposite the troops, looking sick and worn out, dressed in a plain black suit with the tallest of stove-pipe hats, was the President, seated on a fine horse with rich trimmings. On his right and left were Generals Hooker and Stoneman, and clustering around on all sides were Major and Brigadier-Generals too numerous to mention.

You know the story of a man who threw a bootjack out of a hotel window in Washington, last winter, and hit six brigadiers and a dog, and said, “It wasn't a good night for brigadiers, either.” Yesterday was a good day for them. Who would have thought, five years ago, that such a sight as this would ever be possible in democratic, republican America. I doubt if any country has ever seen so large a collection of officers of high rank; there could not have been less than a thousand officers of all grades in the cavalcade, and now-a-days most every one dresses well; so you can imagine that such a crowd, well mounted on handsome horses with rich housings, was a gallant and gay sight. The cavalry was in two lines, each about two miles long; there were nearly ten thousand of them. I never have seen anything like such a number of horsemen together before. Generally they looked very well; the best regiments in appearance were the First and Second United States and the First Massachusetts and the First Rhode Island. There were four batteries of horse artillery, and the last one went by "flying." You know the term, “horse artillery,” is given to those batteries where all the gunners are mounted; this enables them to keep up with the cavalry.

SOURCE: Charles Fessenden Morse, Letters Written During the Civil War, 1861-1865, p. 124-5

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: April 7, 1865

Richmond has fallen and I have no heart to write about it. Grant broke through our lines and Sherman cut through them. Stoneman is this side of Danville. They are too many for us. Everything is lost in Richmond, even our archives. Blue black is our horizon. Hood says we shall all be obliged to go West — to Texas, I mean, for our own part of the country will be overrun.

Yes, a solitude and a wild waste it may become, but, as to that, we can rough it in the bush at home.

De Fontaine, in his newspaper, continues the old cry. “Now Richmond is given up,” he says, “it was too heavy a load to carry, and we are stronger than ever.” “Stronger than ever?” Nine-tenths of our army are under ground and where is another army to come from? Will they wait until we grow one?

SOURCES: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 377

Diary of Corporal Alexander G. Downing: Wednesday, November 23, 1864

We started at 7 a. m. and marched twelve miles, when we bivouacked for the night. It is reported that a force of two thousand rebels is in our front beyond the Oconee river, and that there has been some skirmishing. We crossed the Savannah railroad here at Station No. 15. This station was burned last July by General Stoneman in his raid toward Macon, Georgia. The country is very heavily timbered, mostly pitch pine, but there are some very nice plantations. The negroes have all been run off to keep them from falling into the hands of our army. We are now on three-fifths rations and are foraging for meat.

Source: Alexander G. Downing, Edited by Olynthus B., Clark, Downing’s Civil War Diary, p. 231

Diary of Judith Brockenbrough McGuire: Saturday Night, May 9, 1863

So much has happened since I last wrote in my diary, that I can scarcely collect my thoughts to give a plain detail of facts as they occurred. Ten days ago, Mr. ––– and myself went in to spend two days with our children who are living in Richmond. It soon became apparent that we could not return, as the Government had taken the cars for the purpose of transporting soldiers to Fredericksburg. Hooker was making immense demonstrations, and was crossing 159,000 men. They fought on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, at different points, principally at Chancellorsville, and the enemy was repulsed at all points. Hooker and his host retired to the Rappahannock, and recrossed, I think, on Wednesday. It is said that General Lee would have followed him, but for the dreadful storm of Monday night and Tuesday. General Lee in his official report speaks of it as a “signal victory.” Our army was smaller than usual, as Longstreet was still near Suffolk, and could not get up in time. It is pretty certain that Hooker — fighting Joe!! — had two to Lee's one, and was defeated. But General Jackson was wounded severely. The great Stonewall is lost to us for a time; his left arm has been amputated, and there is a severe wound in his right hand. Oh, I pray that God may raise him up to be a continued blessing to the country. His wife has gone to him. The best surgical skill of the army, the sympathy and anxiety of the whole South, and the prayers of the country, are his. General Paxton, of the Stonewall Brigade was killed, and many, ah, how many, valuable lives were lost! it is impossible for us yet to know, as the telegraphic wires are cut, and mail communication very uncertain. From my own family boys we have not heard, and we are willing to believe that “no news is good news.” Two more of the dear ones over whose youth we so anxiously watched have fallen — Hill Carter, of Shirley, and Benjamin White, of Charlestown, Jefferson County. Thank God, they were both Christians! My heart aches for their parents. The last was an only son, and justly the pride and joy of his household. His parents are in the enemy's lines. O Lord, uphold that tender mother when the withering stroke is known to her! Major Channing Price and Colonel Thomas Garnett are gone! God help our country! We can't afford to lose such men.

While our army was busily engaged last Sunday, the Yankees took occasion to send out a raiding party of their superfluous numbers. A party of several hundred came here about three o'clock in the afternoon. They knew that the cars containing the wounded from the battle-field would be here. The cars arrived, and were immediately surrounded and the soldiers paroled. The ladies all the while were in the cars administering comfort to the wounded. They remained about three hours, took off every horse they could find, and every servant that they could induce to go, which was very few, and then rode off without burning the houses or offering other injury to the villagers. They belonged to Stoneman's command. They went over this county, Goochland, Louisa, and a part of Fluvanna, without molestation. They became alarmed, however, and cut their career short. They went to Columbia for the purpose of destroying the canal, but in their haste did it very little injury. The injury to the railroads was slight, and easily repaired. To individuals they did some mischief; at W. they fed four hundred horses at my brother's barn, took his buggy horse, and rode off. His neighbours, and others in their route, fared very much in the same way. In Richmond the excitement was terrible. The alarm-bell pealed out its startling notes; citizens were armed, and sent out to man the batteries; extemporaneous cavalry companies were formed and sent out; women were seen crying and wringing their hands on the streets; wild rumours were afloat; but it all ended in the raiders not attempting to get to the Richmond batteries, and the city in a few hours became perfectly quiet.

SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern Refugee, During the War, p. 209-11

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: August 3, 1864

Yesterday was such a lucky day for my housekeeping in our hired house. Oh, ye kind Columbia folk! Mrs. Alex Taylor, née Hayne, sent me a huge bowl of yellow butter and a basket to match of every vegetable in season. Mrs. Preston's man came with mushrooms freshly cut and Mrs. Tom Taylor's with fine melons.

Sent Smith and Johnson (my house servant and a carpenter from home, respectively) to the Commissary's with our wagon for supplies. They made a mistake, so they said, and went to the depot instead, and stayed there all day. I needed a servant sadly in many ways all day long, but I hope Smith and Johnson had a good time. I did not lose patience until Harriet came in an omnibus because I had neither servants nor horse to send to the station for her.

Stephen Elliott is wounded, and his wife and father have gone to him. Six hundred of his men were destroyed in a mine; and part of his brigade taken prisoners: Stoneman and his raiders have been captured. This last fact gives a slightly different hue to our horizon of unmitigated misery.

General L––– told us of an unpleasant scene at the President's last winter. He called there to see Mrs. McLean. Mrs. Davis was in the room and he did not speak to her. He did not intend to be rude; it was merely an oversight. And so he called again and tried to apologize, to remedy his blunder, but the President was inexorable, and would not receive his overtures of peace and good-will.

General L––– is a New York man. Talk of the savagery of slavery, heavens! How perfect are our men's manners down here, how suave, how polished are they. Fancy one of them forgetting to speak to Mrs. Davis in her own drawing-room.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 317-8

Captain Richard F. Halstead to Miss Sedgwick, May 13, 1863

Headquarters 6th Corps,

Camp Near White Oak Church,

May 13, 1863.

My dear Miss Sedgwick:

The General has just informed me that you were quite anxious to learn some of the particulars of our late movement on the other side of the Rappahannock, and asked me if I would like to make the attempt to give you an idea of what the 6th Corps had done. I am sure that I feel a great pleasure in doing anything I can to give you all that I know, but I am also sure that, however hearty my efforts may be, I shall fall far short of reality, very far short, I fear, of making the matter interesting. It requires one of two things to be able to do this well, neither of which do I possess, namely, long experience or genius. I am neither a Russell nor a Smalley. Do you remember the latter's remarkable description of the battle of Antietam, published in the “Tribune,” and so very extensively copied?

When this late campaign began the General — I mean your brother — had quite a little army under his command. General Hooker sent about four corps to cross the river at United States Ford, leaving the General in command of three corps, the 1st, 3rd, and his own, amounting to about fifty thousand men. The general plan was that we, i.e., these three corps under the General, should make a strong demonstration just below Fredericksburg, at and below the place where Franklin made his crossing under Burnside, while Hooker was to make the main attack, if possible, on their rear and left flank. Our action depended entirely on the movements of the enemy. He might force us to convert our feigned attack into a real one, and for this reason a strong force was left here. The previous movements of our cavalry under Stoneman were, as you will have already learned from the newspapers, to prepare for the total defeat of the army under Lee by cutting or interrupting his communications.

It was, I think, on the 28th of April (dates have been so confused in my mind lately that I shall have to trust to you to make obvious corrections) that the order — the final order — to move came to us. Generals Sickles (3rd Corps) and Reynolds (1st) were to report to the General. It was a dismally rainy day. One large brigade, known as the “Light Division,” was sent to the pontoon train to carry the boats about two miles to the bank of the river, a most fatiguing and, some of us thought, a very unnecessary proceeding.

The ground on this side of the river is for about a third of a mile a perfect flat, evidently an old water bottom. Then comes a range of low hills, cut here and there by ravines — just the ground in and by which to conceal large numbers of men. Behind and quite near were woods, in and behind which the corps encamped the first night. The pontoon train was moved up as far by the teams as was safe from observation by the enemy. Luckily there was something of a fog, which increased as night came on. At eleven P.M. the men detailed for the purpose were to begin carrying the pontoons to the place of crossing. At a given point other men from General Brooks's division (the 1st of our corps) were to meet the boats in parties of sixty to each boat, to cross the river and take possession of the opposite bank. I do not know how many men it required to carry each boat; it was so dark I could not see, although many times close to them. I should think not less than twenty-five. Poor devils! they had a hard task. The approach to the river was very slow. Before daylight about twenty boats had been placed in the water. Everything on the other side was perfectly quiet; nothing unusual was observed. The fog was quite dense, but before the boats began to arrive the enemy's pickets were occasionally heard talking among themselves or singing. The boats were carried with as little noise as possible, but the distance to the other side — about four hundred feet — was too small to prevent some noise being heard. At the last, however, it became useless to attempt a longer concealment of the mere noise. Then matters were rushed through with a will. All this time the dense fog continued. Finally, at the first dawn of light, the boats, about fifteen in number, I think, — I could not see them well enough to count them, — were manned by the engineer soldiers who were to row them and were filled by the designated troops, which were of General Russell's brigade, and, as nearly as possible, they all pushed off together. Not a sound was heard from the other side. Officers on our side and some in the boats were giving orders and directions in loud tones. The boats moved on in the dim light, and in a very few seconds faded away into faint, uncertain shadows. We could hear the oars, we could even hear the beaching of the boats on the opposite bank; the noise became a little fainter, and we felt sure that they must have landed; another moment of suspense, and then there shone out through the fog just one bright spark of fire, followed instantly by the report of a musket, and then succeeded a volley, a rattling volley, from about a regiment of men in the rifle-pits near the bank. But their firing was wild. The most of the bullets came whistling over the heads of the men on the bluff on this side, not less than fifty feet above the level of the water. Very few men in the boats were injured, one killed and eight wounded. After the, first volley by the enemy there was no further interference with our possession of the position occupied. The boats were at once brought back, refilled with men, and sent to the other side, until two brigades were on that bank. Then the work of constructing two bridges was at once begun. Artillery was posted on this side in such manner as to support the troops thrown over. The bridges being completed, the rest of General Brooks's division passed over and strengthened their position as soon as possible by means of rifle-pits.

Meanwhile General Reynolds, who was to effect a crossing about half a mile below, had been unsuccessful in making lodgment on the south bank. I think that it was not till the afternoon that he effected his purpose, with a loss considerably heavier than at the crossing of the 6th Corps. He also began to put himself in a position to hold the ground, and by his making rifle-pits finally drew upon himself the fire from a strong, well-posted battery within good range. To this fire our heavy batteries on this side replied, though without apparent effect, the distance being too great. General Reynolds lost a few men, less than half a dozen, I think, by this fire.

Having effected our lodgment on that side of the river, and finding that the enemy was disposed not to try to drive us back, General Hooker took from us the 3rd Corps, and the following day, if I remember rightly, ordered General Reynolds also to join him near Chancellorsville. This left the 6th Corps alone in its glory. Reynolds's bridges were taken up, and we awaited orders. These came to us so irregularly from defects in the telegraph that it was impossible to execute some of them. General Brooks's men had made themselves comfortable on the other side. His skirmishers were within little more than pistol-shot of those of the enemy. Their line of battle was distinctly visible in the line of the railroad, and the only disposition they had shown to be at all disagreeable was by a harmless artillery fire at intervals, entirely unprovoked on our part.

Lying thus in suspense, an order came to us to pursue the enemy on the Bowling Green Road (south from Fredericksburg), that they were flying, routed to Richmond. Then came another order to march to Chancellorsville, to unite with Hooker, crushing and destroying any force which we might find opposed to us. This was Saturday night. At about one o'clock A.M. the head of the column was in motion toward Fredericksburg. We had information from Butterfield, Hooker's Chief of Staff, that there were but three regiments in front of us, in the works on the heights. The road was bad for artillery, and our progress was slow. At daybreak the head of the column was halted at the entrance to the town, General Newton not wishing to run the risk of anything like a panic through a surprise. About sunrise the General and his staff came up to where the first troops were halted. There had been, I should have said, some skirmishing nearly all the way to the town, losses not large. A movement upon the enemy's works was at once ordered. The regiments sent up could not see a sign of a rebel. They were quite near the first line of works when they were saluted by a heavy musketry and artillery fire, and repulsed; i.e., they did not gain the works, but they remained on the ground, lying down, protected by a slight elevation. Immediately batteries were ordered into position to shell the works; but it was all, or nearly all, uphill work, and not much damage could have been done. All it did accomplish was to make the enemy keep his head out of sight. One or two of our regiments were sent into the town, to prevent anything like a surprise on our flank. We then found that our engineers had already commenced a bridge directly opposite the town, over which, as soon as completed, General Gibbon of the 2nd Corps was to march his division. An hour or so elapsed before his men came into the town, and then he reported to the General, who directed him to move to the right, to try to obtain a position that would command the works directly in front of us. General Gibbon moved his men up, crossed a canal in rear of the town, but found his further progress impeded by a second canal, over which there was no bridge or other means of crossing. The rifle-pits in front of him were also well manned, and his movements unsuccessful, as they were not made without loss. Finding this plan fail, as did also an attempt to make a similar attack on the left, in front of General Howe, commanding our 2nd Division, and for a similar reason, the General finally organized a strong attack at about the centre of the works. In front of this point — which, by the way, can scarcely be called a point, for it was not less than three to four hundred yards in extent — was a slope almost entirely free from obstructions, and therefore completely under the enemy's fire, both of artillery and infantry. Then came a sunken road, lined on each side by a stone wall about four feet high, thus forming a strong and effective covering for the defenders. Beyond this was a short but somewhat steep slope to the crest of the heights, in which were the batteries. All these works were commanded and protected by each other, so that the position was a very strong one. The storming columns were formed, partly in column and partly in line, and ordered to move up at double-quick without firing a shot. Our artillery was ordered to open the hottest kind of a fire the instant our storming party should move. This fire was directed from each flank, and kept up as long as possible with safety to our own men. General Howe was directed to move upon the position in front of him, on the extreme left, in conjunction with the attack at the centre. At last everything was arranged, and the storming party began at a given signal to move from the streets where the different regiments were formed. The artillery opened a tremendous fire. As soon as the head of the columns made their appearance on the long slope, the enemy's fire opened upon them very heavily, both from guns and infantry, and, with the exception of one regiment, the whole force moved on steadily, magnificently, without firing a shot, the men dropping like leaves in autumn. Their approach to the works seemed, from where we stood watching, terribly slow. Every second that the dreadful fire continued diminished the strength of the attacking party by scores. One portion of the force almost seemed to come to a halt just on the edge of the sunken road of which I spoke. It was a very anxious moment; but it was only a moment, for the very next saw our men climbing the steep slope beyond the road, directly in front of the batteries. One single color (that of the 6th Maine) never for one second faltered until the very crest of the heights was gained, and it became a sign of victory and a rallying-point for the men who had met more obstacles in their way. There were only a few of us gathered about the General at this moment, but a cheer, weak as it was, could not be refused. The entire line of the works on those fearful heights was gained. General Howe had watched his opportunity, and carried the rifle-pits and batteries in his front in a very spirited manner. General Gibbon, at the earliest moment, brought his men through the town to our support, following the approach we had made.

The enemy fled in large numbers from his works, leaving many dead and wounded, fifteen pieces of artillery, and a considerable number of small arms. Our loss was, I think, about one thousand. The three rebel regiments which Butterfield told us occupied the position were found to be, upon inquiry of prisoners, five brigades. We captured between three and four hundred men; but of the fifteen guns taken, there were unfortunately but nine sent in. The others were retaken on the following day. This was no fault of the 6th Corps, which, in order to execute the order received to march to join General Hooker, could spare not a man or horse to send in the guns. General Gibbon, whose division remained in the town, should have attended to the matter, and, indeed, if he could have foreseen the events of the following day would, no doubt, have brought in all captured property of any value.

The heights once gained, our force moved on very steadily to a line of hills still higher, and distant about half or three quarters of a mile. Our broken line was reformed, our batteries brought up, and everything prepared to move forward. Our line of march was the plank road leading from Fredericksburg nearly due west to Chancellorsville, where, as Hooker informed the General, we would find the enemy's right flank entirely exposed to our attack. We moved on cautiously, skirmishers well in the advance. The enemy had succeeded in carrying off a couple of guns, by means of which he caused us not a little annoyance. He would take advantage of every good position, which was by no means seldom, to throw a few shells at our advancing column. Then it became necessary to dislodge them, which could be done only by artillery, which had first to be brought into proper position to reply. Artillery cannot march across country as infantry can, prepared at any moment to deliver its fire. All this took time, valuable time. The ground was undulating, and here and there slightly wooded. We went on slowly but carefully, so as not to be drawn into any trap. At last we approached a wood which covered the whole of the ground over which we were to advance. There we met their infantry in force, and there we had a very hard fight. Some of our regiments were broken into the merest fragments. Our approach had been slow enough to allow them, the enemy, to bring up reinforcements from Banks's Ford, distant from our right flank only about a mile, and also from the force in front of Hooker. At all events, wherever it came from, the force was sufficient to check us effectively until night came on. Thus finished Sunday. At daybreak on the morning of Monday the General sent me in to see General Butterfield, to tell him the position we were in, and to try to get communication with General Hooker, then not more than five or six miles distant from us. If we could only crash through, if Hooker would only cooperate with us, all might be well. I heard all Butterfield had to say, and rode on, crossed the river, passed through Fredericksburg, and had gone about half a mile beyond the town when I found a very serious obstacle to my further progress, in the shape of quite a large force of the enemy coming from the southwest directly toward the town, thus placing themselves between the town and the rear of our corps. I was thus prevented from joining the General, and turned back to try to make my way to him by way of Banks's Ford, but getting astray, did not succeed until about eleven at night, so that of the operations of our corps on that day (Monday) I can give you only what I have heard from those who were on the ground. The General had early notice of the movement of the enemy upon his rear, and he quickly made the necessary preparation to meet an attack from that direction. After taking possession of the very heights we had captured, the evident intention of the enemy was to cut the corps off from its only remaining line of retreat, namely, Banks's Ford. For this purpose a very heavy force was led by General Lee in person from the position in front of Hooker around our left, to fall upon what he supposed would be our rear and right flank. But the General had already established a portion of the corps in a new line of battle facing to the rear, and although the attack made by Lee was, according to all the accounts of those who saw it, the most furious of the war, it was most gallantly met and repulsed by a far inferior force.

It has been estimated that the force which Lee brought in this attack was not less than twenty thousand. Even supposing the number to have been no more than twelve to thirteen thousand, it was brought to bear upon very little more than two brigades of ours — not more than six to seven thousand men. This attack took place late in the afternoon, and, like the action of the previous day, was brought to a close by night setting in. During the evening the corps was moved to a position near to the bridges which had been laid at Banks's Ford, and before daylight the whole command had recrossed the river, and the bridges were taken up, the crossing and removal of the bridges being effected under an annoying but harmless artillery fire.

Several men — I heard of two or three — died from mere exhaustion before the corps recrossed the river. The day had been very hot, and the night even was unseasonably warm. It is by no means a pleasant thing for us — of the 6th Corps, I mean—to look back at the results of our short campaign; to think of the will with which the troops went to their work, and the fruitless results. I say fruitless; just look at it. Here we are just where we started from; we have lost nearly five thousand men, and what have we gained? Nothing, surely, in our position. We took about fifteen hundred prisoners and fifteen guns minus six, and we inflicted upon the enemy a loss in killed and wounded certainly not less than that sustained by ourselves; it is estimated by every one as greater, for our artillery made sad havoc in their dense attacking masses on Monday afternoon.

How different everything might, nay, would have been, if we had had the cooperation of even a small part of the immense force with Fighting Joe Hooker! Why did he not keep Lee occupied so that he would not have dared to turn his back to Chancellorsville, to fall upon us? Or if, finding that he had so left him, why did he not know it and act accordingly; fall upon the rear of his column as it came down upon us? What was Hooker there for? To entrench himself, with six corps under his command, and expect and even order one single corps to march right through the enemy, to “crush and destroy,” were the words of his order to the General, “any force which might oppose itself to” our march? Would it not have been quite as reasonable an undertaking for him to have marched with his force to join us, say, upon the heights of Fredericksburg, which we could so easily have held? You never saw a more bitter set of men than we were when we saw the way things were going. I saw General Hooker myself on Monday afternoon. I took considerable trouble to see him, thinking it might be some satisfaction to him to communicate with some staff-officer of the General's; but when I told him of the hard fight the corps had had the previous day, he said, in a very disagreeable way, that he had heard of it, and then added: “There were very few troops in front of you, however.” My reply was very short, and I left him. And now look at the order he issues congratulating the army on its achievements:

"If it [the army] has not accomplished all that was expected, the reasons are well known to the army. It is sufficient to say they were of a character not to be foreseen or prevented by human sagacity or resource.” Indeed, the “reasons” are very well known to the army. And if he had not sufficient sagacity to meet and overcome greater obstacles than he found, the best thing he can do is to resign. He says: “We have taken from the enemy five thousand prisoners captured and brought off seven pieces of artillery,” etc., when the only artillery taken was by our corps, a command so disconnected from him that he wrote to the General: “You are too far for me to direct.” He says nothing of all the artillery which he lost; and the “splendid achievements” of which he boasts in a previous order are as yet quite unknown to us. If he had but left us either one of the two corps — the 1st or 3rd — which were under the General's command when we first began operations, we could have gone through anything. If the rest of the army had fought as this corps did, we should have been in Richmond before this time.

After we returned to our old camps, and the pickets had resumed their old positions on the banks of the river, the rebel pickets called out to ours, saying that none of our army could ever cross that river again except “the fellows who took those heights.”

General Hooker was at first disposed to make this corps the scapegoat for his failure, but he soon found that he stood alone in his estimate of what had really been accomplished by it. The army — so far as we could learn, the whole army — stood to endorse the General, and to uphold him even against Hooker. It has, take it all together, been a magnificent opportunity thrown away — such an one as we can scarcely ever hope to have again. At no time did Hooker have more than one single corps engaged. Two of the corps with him did not fire a shot. Corps commanders begged for permission to attack, but were kept back. Hooker seemed to have just lost his head entirely.

I wish I could tell you of the thousand incidents of our short campaign. One sees so much that it is impossible to remember. In such times one lives on excitement. Eating and drinking is too insignificant a matter to think about. As for sleep, a few minutes thrown in here and there seem to be quite sufficient for the needs of nature, although, of course, such a state of things cannot last many days.

One of our staff, a volunteer aide, Mr. Farrar of Maine, was captured. Lieutenant-Colonel Kent, our Inspector-General, was slightly wounded. These are our only accidents.

I am very respectfully yours,

R. F. Halsted.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 110-29

Diary of Salmon P. Chase: Monday, September 15, 1862

Went to Department soon after nine, stopping at Franklin's to buy glasses. Got a pair, not, I fear, exactly the best for me. Received letters from John Sherman, O. Follett, Horace Greeley, and others. Greeley's assured me that the “Tribune” had no interest in the Labor Contract, which I was very glad to learn. — Called on Attorney-General about citizenship of colored men. Found him adverse to expressing official opinion. — Met Eliot and Tabor, Mayor of New Bedford, and invited them to dine with me. — Commenced letter to Greeley; when I was reminded of my promise to accompany Mr. Case to the President's. Went with him. Found Eliot and Tabor in ante-chamber. Went in and found Blair with the President discussing affairs. Told him of the gentlemen outside, and was permitted to bring them in. Did so. Introduced Case, who shoke hands, and we two came away.

Parted from Case at Department. Finished letter to Greeley, and wrote Judge Mason about Rodney, promising to do what I could for trial. Several callers — among them Col. Lloyd of Ohio Cavalry, and Col. Mason of Ohio Infantry, with two Captains. Lloyd said that the cavalry was very badly used; that forage was insufficient and irregular, and needlessly wasted; that sometimes a squadron, company or regiment was ordered out early in the morning, and left all day without any further orders. Pope he said, had nominally about 2,000 cavalry when he went South, and when he returned had not 500 fit for service. Sometimes the cavalry was ordered to march, when five or six horses in a Company would die from sheer exhaustion. Artillery horses better cared for. Lloyd desired Mason to be made Brigadier-General. Promised to make inquiries, and, if found all right, promote object.

Mr. Wetmore called about Cotton and Tobacco. Proposed that Government should take all Cotton at 20 cents and tobacco at —— cents — pay this price — send it to New York — sell it for Gold — keep account with each owner, and, at the end of the war, pay him the difference, if loyal. The idea struck me very favorably, and I promised to see him again tomorrow.

Weed called and we had a long talk. He expressed again his conviction that more decided measures are needed in an Anti-Slavery direction; and said there was much dissatisfaction with Seward in New York because he is supposed to be averse to such measures. I told him, I did not doubt Mr. Seward's fidelity to his ideas of progress, amelioration and freedom; but that I thought he adhered too tenaciously to men who proved themselves unworthy and dangerous, such as McClellan; that he resisted too persistently decided measures; that his influence encouraged the irresolution and inaction of the President in respect to men and measures, although personally he was as decided as anybody in favor of vigorous prosecution of the war, and as active as anybody in concerting plans of action against the rebels. Mr. Weed admitted that there was much justice in my views, and said he had expressed similar ideas to Mr. Seward himself. He said he would see him again, and that Seward and I must agree on a definite line, especially on the Slavery question, which we must recommend to the President. We talked a good deal about our matters — about the absence of proper Cabinet discussion of important subjects — about Tax appointments in New York, with which he is well satisfied, etc., etc.

Went to War Department between 3 and 4, and saw telegrams of McClellan. They state that the action of yesterday resulted in a decided success — that the enemy driven from Mountain Crest, did not renew the action this morning but retreated in disorder — that Lee confessed himself “shockingly whipped”, with loss of 15,000 men, killed, wounded, missing and prisoners — that he has 700 prisoners at Frederick, and that 1000 have been taken by Hooker and held — that he proposed pursuit as rapidly as possible — that Franklin on the right in advance towards Harpers Ferry, had succeeded as well as the troops on the right. News from the West also good. Nothing from Miles at Harpers Ferry but it is believed that he still holds out.

Returned to the Department, closed the business of the day, and went home. Eliot, Tabor and Harrington dined with me. After dinner, rode with Harrington. Stopped at Mr. Cutts, to inquire for Mrs. Douglas — glad to hear she was better. Stopped also at War Department. No further news. Stanton thinks Halleck begins to realize his mistake. Said he intended to make Birney Major-General, but Halleck (or rather McClellan) had designated Stoneman. Told him that Birney had sent his letter of resignation to me, but I had declined to present it. Nothing new from the army, except report from operator at Point of Rocks of firing apparently between that place and Harpers Ferry, — which may indicate Franklin or Miles in that position. Nothing from McClellan since noon.

Dropped Harrington at Ebbit House, and called on General Schenck at Willards. Helped dress his wound which looked very bad, but the surgeons say he is improving rapidly and will be able to sit up in two or three days. His daughter is with him, and most assiduous and devoted.

Home. Friend Butler and Benedict called wishing to be introduced to the President, in order to present petition for exemption of society from draft. Promised to go with them, or write note, tomorrow morning. — Gov. Boutwell called and we talked of Tax Law, Stamp distribution, etc.

SOURCE: Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the Year 1902, Vol. 2, p. 82-4

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to John M. Forbes, February 24, 1864

Giesboro' Point, Feb. 24, '64.

 I left Vienna, not from choice, but because I had to. I am sent over here to straighten out the Cavalry Depot, — the Depot which supplies all the Eastern Departments. There has been no head here, and there was a sad want of system. They say at the War Department, at the Cavalry Bureau, and at General Augur's Headquarters, that I should only be here two or three months, — in that case I shall not object. There is a great deal of work to be done, and I am getting interested in it, — but shall leave when I get the machine fairly running. The command of 16,000 to 25,000 indifferent (or worse) horses is not much for glory.¹

About going into active service I cannot tell: I wrote to General Gregg and got answer that he would apply to Pleasanton for the Regiment and could probably get it, — I have heard nothing more.²

_______________

¹ The official documents show the activity of the brigade during the later months of 1863, scouting parties and counter raids and picket attacks, of which I mention a few specimens: —

October 13. Colonel Lowell reports a scouting expedition he had made through Thornton, Herndon Station, Frying Pan, to Gum Spring, — nothing found. Reports Captain Rumery's (Second Cavalry) encounter with White's men, capturing one man and three horses from them.

October 22. Colonel Baker (under Colonel Lowell's orders) reports that a detachment of his command, and one from the Californians in the Second Massachusetts, met some of Mosby's men near Fairfax; killed one, and captured “the three celebrated guerrillas, Jack Barns, Edwin Stratton, and Bill Hanover,” whom he forwarded to the Old Capitol Prison.

October 19. Mosby reports to Stuart a very successful raid on an army-train near Annandale; that he captured over one hundred horses and mules, wagons with stores, seventy-five to one hundred prisoners, arms, etc., with no loss. Then comes a rumour of another great invasion by Lee and Longstreet about to occur, and General Pleasanton sends General Gregg to operate with Colonel Lowell at Fairfax. General Corcoran reports to Washington that Lowell is scouring the country. It proves that there is no invasion.

October 27. Mosby reports that, the night before, he attacked the centre of a long wagon-train hauling supplies for the army to Warrenton. His men unhitched the teams from more than forty wagons, and ran off one hundred and forty-five horses and mules and “thirty negroes and Yankees.” “I had forty men.”

November 5. Mosby reports that he has killed Kilpatrick's division commissary, and captured an adjutant, five men, six horses, etc.

November 17. Colonel Lowell reports one sergeant and three men of the Thirteenth New York Cavalry captured by rebels — twenty or thirty, in Union overcoats, advancing to the sentries with a pretended pass, — wounded one man.

November 22. Mosby reports that, since November 5, he has captured seventy-five cavalrymen, over one hundred horses and mules, six wagons, etc.

Each of these raids, at a new place, in a wide region, was followed by a pursuit; but the freebooters had scattered in every direction, having no camp, only to muster again when ordered.

November 26. Colonel Lowell reports a reconnoissance by one of his captains, with twenty-five mounted and seventy-five dismounted men (the latter concealed as far as possible, and marching chiefly by night), towards the Blue Ridge; Yankee Davis and Binns (a rebel deserter) as guides. Colonel Lowell, later, with one hundred mounted men, joins these at Middleburg.

December 13. Colonel Lowell reports: “This morning, at about three o'clock, the picket at Germantown were surprised by a party of guerrillas, dismounted, some twenty strong. They crawled up and shot (without any warning), mortally wounding two men and capturing five horses and their equipments.”

December 20. Colonel Lowell reports a reconnoissance led by him, on the 18th, on the trail of Rosser's and White's large force, which had cut telegraph lines and burned bridges, and gone farther. On his way back he chased some of Mosby's men, and brought in two prisoners and sixteen horses.

December 21. Colonel Lowell reports twenty to thirty guerrillas near his camp the night before, who attacked one of his picket stations, got four horses and wounded two men. The same night they attacked an officer and his escort on Fairfax Road, and wounded two. “One of the wounded men, near Hunter's Mill, was shot a second time through the body by a guerrilla, after he had surrendered and given up his pistol. Party sent in pursuit, but to no purpose.”

December 27. Colonel Lowell reports a scout to Leesburg by fifty men of the Thirteenth New York Cavalry, guided by Binns, who had deserted the Confederates. They searched houses, and brought in eight prisoners, “among them Pettingall (a notorious scout), Joe White, Bridges (one of Mosby's men), and Beavers, with other suspicious citizens pointed out by Binns.” Had a few shots at distant parties.

December 31. Colonel Lowell reports the return of his parties sent on extensive scouting expeditions to Hopewell's Gap, White Plains, Middleburg, Upperville, Philomont, Dranesville, etc. It was supposed that clothing was to be issued to the rebels, but they did not appear at the place specified. A party fell in with some of Mosby's men and some Virginia cavalry; captured one captain, one lieutenant, seventeen privates, forage contractor, and ten suspicious citizens, most of whom were thought to be recruits or conscripts.

The above reports, taken from the Rebellion Record, show how constant and exacting was the service of holding the guerrilla bands in check.

The views of the General-in-Chief on the “Partisans,” as tried by the standard of military ethics, is shown in the following extracts from an official letter of Major-General Halleck: —

washington, Oct. 28, 1863.

Most of the difficulties are caused by the conduct of the pretended non-combatant inhabitants of the country. They pretend to act the part of neutrals, but do not. They give aid, shelter, and concealment to guerrilla and other bands, like that of Mosby, who are continually destroying our roads, burning our bridges, and capturing wagon-trains. If these men carried on a legitimate warfare, no complaint would be made. On the contrary, they fight in citizen's dress, and are aided in all their rascalities by the people of the country. As soon as they are likely to be caught they go home, put out their horses, hide their arms, and pretend to be quiet and non-combatant farmers.  . . . It is not surprising that our people get exasperated at such men and shoot them down when they can. Moreover, men who act in this manner in disguise and within our lines have, under the laws of civilized warfare, forfeited their lives. (Rebellion Record, xxix, ii, 347.)

General Stoneman, in a letter from the Cavalry Bureau to Colonel Kelton, A. A. G., written Oct. 30, 1863, tells of the enormous numbers of sick, disabled, and unserviceable horses there, and of the wilful or necessary neglect of them, and their misuse or overuse in the field and camp.

The average issue per month to the Army of the Potomac was 6000. In the details of the number of horses he lately issued to different commands, were only one hundred to Colonel Lowell, against much larger numbers to others. [Yet the guerrilla-hunting service was very destructive to horses.] General Stoneman writes : —

“There are 223 regiments of cavalry in the service. Of these, 36 are in the Army of the Potomac. At the rate horses are used up in that army, it would require 435,000 a year to keep the cavalry of that army up.”

² Colonel Lowell's letters during the winter and spring are very few, because his wife was now with him in camp, and his military duties were many. He still commanded the brigade, with headquarters at Vienna. Of his own regiment, the battalions commanded by Major Forbes and Captain Read were there; Major Thompson with his battalion being stationed on the Maryland side of the Potomac, guarding that approach to Washington. From Vienna, picketing and scouting parties went out against the ever-active foe.

On Feb. 4, 1864, a painful incident — desertion to the enemy by a private of the Second Massachusetts Cavalry — occurred. I tell the story as told to me by Mrs. Lowell and some of the officers. There was in the regiment, as has been said, besides the Californians and the better class of the Massachusetts contingent, unfortunately a bad element of would-be bounty-jumpers and roughs still present, and desertions had been frequent. An example of severe punishment was needed for the good of the service, yet deserters had been pardoned by the President. One night a picket-guard deserted “off post,” taking his horse, arms, and accoutrements with him. Very soon after, a scouting party of the regiment returning from Aldie were attacked in rear by Mosby's men. Making a counter-charge, the soldiers recognized the renegade among the enemy. A rush was made for him, and he was run down and taken. Colonel Lowell at once summoned a “drumhead court-martial,” which sat all night, and condemned the man to be shot at ten o'clock the next morning. It was done with all the attendant circumstances usual at military executions, to make the incident an impressive one to the brigade. The regiments were drawn up, forming three sides of a hollow square on the drill-ground, and the prisoner, guarded, and accompanied by the chaplain, and preceded by his coffin and the firing-party, was marched slowly, to solemn military music, around the inside of the square, so that each man could see his face, and then shot.

It not being warranted by the Army Regulations for a subordinate officer to call a “Drumhead Court-martial” and execute its sentence, except in case of emergency, when too far away to communicate with his superiors, and Colonel Lowell being in daily communication with headquarters at Washington, he expected, on reporting the matter that afternoon, to receive at least a severe reprimand. On the contrary, no mention was made of it at all. The fact probably was that General Augur, and Mr. Stanton, who would naturally be consulted in such a case, were both pleased at Colonel Lowell's action, for if the case had been referred to Washington, the President would probably have pardoned the man, who was young and infatuated of a Southern girl; but they could not commend Colonel Lowell for going beyond the authority of the regulations, therefore deemed silence the best means of expressing their approval.

Feb. 20. A severe disaster befell the regiment. A large party, under Captain Read of California, a much valued officer, on their return from a two-days scout, were ambuscaded and routed by Mosby, the captain and nine men were killed, many were wounded, and two officers and fifty-five men were taken, — more than half the command.

March 8. The First Battalion ordered to relieve the Second Battalion in Maryland, the latter rejoined the regiment. Several officers of the Second Massachusetts were commissioned in the Fourth and Fifth Massachusetts Cavalry — a serious loss to the regiment.

April 8. Colonel Lowell returned and resumed command of the Brigade, and, soon after, three expeditions were made into the neighbouring counties, resulting in the capture of thirty-five officers and men of Mosby's command, and of twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of cotton, wool, blockade-run goods, and Mosby's papers were found in one of his hiding places.

April 18. Major Forbes brought in six prisoners, taken when on the point of burning some bridges.

April 19. Colonel Lowell reports to Washington on the enemy's forces and the amount of corn in Loudoun County, and brings in eleven prisoners.

April 23. Colonel Lowell reports an attack on his pickets. His truthfulness in giving evidence, even against his command, and his absence of all brag, make all his reports remarkable, in contrast to many others of officers on both sides.

April 26. General Tyler writes to General Augur, now commanding the Department, about some expedition about to start from Washington: “With Colonel Lowell in command of the cavalry, I have no fear of trouble.”

Early in May, the regiment furnished a patrol for the Orange and Alexandria R. R.

May 18. Major Forbes conducted a successful night expedition to Rectortown with two hundred men, and returned with ten guerrillas and thirty horses.

June. Early in the month, a large part of the regiment went with ambulances, to help bring in the wounded left in the Wilderness after the battle.

July 6. The regiment suffered another severe disaster, largely due, like that of Captain Read, to the party's being ordered to remain out for a considerable time, visiting certain towns, which allowed time for the hostile inhabitants to send word to Mosby of the exact number of men in the command, and to direct him where to find them. Colonel Lowell reported that he had sent Major Forbes, with one hundred and fifty men, on a three-days scout towards the gaps in the Blue Ridge, with orders to visit Leesburg on two days. Major Forbes found all quiet, and on the second day learned that Mosby was absent on a raid north of the Potomac; next day he returned to Leesburg, found all quiet, and, in accordance with his orders, began his return march towards Vienna. Meanwhile Mosby, returning from his raid, had been notified of the strength and probable whereabouts of the command, and with a force of two hundred men or more, and a gun, came suddenly upon them at Zion's Church, near Aldie, and opened fire with his gun. The result was a victory for the Partisan force, who killed forty men of the Second Massachusetts and Thirteenth New York Cavalry, wounded many, and took about one hundred horses. From the accounts of officers there engaged, I add the following. While Major Forbes was feeding and resting his command in a field on the edge of some woods, his vedettes brought in word of Mosby's force being close at hand. He had hastily mounted and formed his squadrons, when the large guerrilla force appeared before them and sent a shell among them. This was an absolutely novel experience to men and horses, who till then had never faced artillery, and made them very unsteady, especially the new squadrons. The obvious and necessary move was an instant charge with the sabre, but a stiff fence before them rendered this impracticable without moving the command. The first squadron behaved well as long as they faced the enemy, but the moment Major Forbes gave the order “Fours right,” to shift to a possible charging ground, the spell was broken, and the men began to break away from the rear. Mosby's men, who had taken down a panel or two of the fence meantime, under cover of the gun, “got the yell” on their opponents, rushed in on their flank with the revolver, and, in spite of efforts of their officers to rally them, the greater part of the command fled. Many were shot in close pursuit. Major Forbes, with a few of the best soldiers, charged and fought gallantly, but these were overpowered or killed. The major ran his sabre into the shoulder of a Captain Richards, and it flew from his hands. At that moment Colonel Mosby shot at him at close range, but the ball fortunately was stopped by the head of his horse thrown up at that minute. The horse fell dead, pinioning Major Forbes to the ground, and helpless, with half a dozen pistols at his temples, he had to surrender. Lieutenant Amory was taken with him. They were at once robbed of part of their clothing and their boots, but when their captors undertook to search Major Forbes's pockets, he is reported to have said they might have his brains, but he meant to keep what money he had, and ordered them to carry him to their officers. Some one of these prevented any further outrage, but the officers had to walk “stocking foot” on the first day's march towards a Southern prison.

Years after, Colonel Mosby, in a newspaper article, said: “One of the regiments I most frequently encountered was from about Boston, the Second Massachusetts Cavalry, Colonel Lowell. I once met a detachment of it under command of a Major Forbes of Boston, and although our encounter resulted in his overthrow, he bore himself with conspicuous gallantry, and I saw him wound one of my best men with his sabre.”

The day after the fight, Rev. Charles A. Humphreys, the chaplain of the Second Cavalry, who was with the expedition and had bravely stayed by a mortally wounded private until his death, was, while burying the body, in spite of his cloth, captured and robbed by a young guerrilla, and sent to join Forbes and Amory in prison.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 315-6, 445-55

Colonel Charles Russell Lowell to Josephine Shaw, October 8, 1863

Fairfax, Oct. 8, 1863.

I believe with Lord Bacon, who was a very wise old fellow, that whatever be your income, it is only just to yourself, your wife, and your fellow-men, to lay aside a large fraction for wet days, and a large fraction for charity: I have never acted up to my theory, but I mean to begin now, — I don't mean to worry about money, and I don't mean to have you worry; ergo, you must expect to see me keep an account-book, and occasionally pull it out and warn you how much water we are drawing, and how much there is under our keel. Mother ends by saying that she has put a thousand dollars in the bank to be something to fall back upon during the first year, but I think we ought to get along without needing that, — my pay is $2400 a year, not including horses, one servant, and fuel and quarters “commuted” when on duty in a city, — of course these latter are supplied in the field. I know what officers of my regiment have done easily on a captain's pay, and I know what I used to do when I kept house in Burlington,— and I know we can live suitably and worthily on that, and be very happy and see friends as we want to see them, only we must start right.

Did I tell you, by the way, that Stoneman's Court of Inquiry recommended me to be more careful for the future, mentioning two points where I seemed careless? I was not careless, as Will or any of my officers will tell you, — I was not at all to blame. I was particularly careful on one of the points where I am blamed, — but I am perfectly willing to shoulder the blame, — prefer to, in fact, — for I think a commanding officer is to blame for everything that goes wrong under him.

SOURCE: Edward Waldo Emerson, Life and Letters of Charles Russell Lowell, p. 310-1

Diary of Mary Boykin Chesnut: September 7, 1863

Major Edward Johnston did not get into the Confederacy until after the first battle of Manassas. For some cause, before he could evade that potentate, Seward rang his little bell and sent him to a prison in the harbor of New York. I forget whether he was exchanged or escaped of his own motion. The next thing I heard of my antebellum friend he had defeated Milroy in Western Virginia. There were so many Johnstons that for this victory they named him Alleghany Johnston.

He had an odd habit of falling into a state of incessant winking as soon as he became the least startled or agitated. In such times he seemed persistently to be winking one eye at you. He meant nothing by it, and in point of fact did not know himself that he was doing it. In Mexico he had been wounded in the eye, and the nerve vibrates independently of his will. During the winter of 1862 and 1863 he was on crutches. After a while he hobbled down Franklin Street with us, we proud to accommodate our pace to that of the wounded general. His ankle continued stiff; so when he sat down another chair had to be put before him. On this he stretched out his stiff leg, straight as a ramrod. At that time he was our only wounded knight, and the girls waited on him and made life pleasant for him.

One night I listened to two love-tales at once, in a distracted state of mind between the two. William Porcher Miles, in a perfectly modulated voice, in cadenced accents and low tones, was narrating the happy end of his affair. He had been engaged to sweet little Bettie Bierne, and I gave him my congratulations with all my heart. It was a capital match, suitable in every way, good for her, and good for him. I was deeply interested in Mr. Miles's story, but there was din and discord on the other hand; old Edward, our pet general, sat diagonally across the room with one leg straight out like a poker, wrapped in red carpet leggings, as red as a turkey-cock in the face. His head is strangely shaped, like a cone or an old-fashioned beehive; or, as Buck said, there are three tiers of it; it is like a pope's tiara.

There he sat, with a loud voice and a thousand winks, making love to Mary P. I make no excuse for listening. It was impossible not to hear him. I tried not to lose a word of Mr. Miles's idyl as the despair of the veteran was thundered into my other ear. I lent an ear to each conversationalist. Mary can not altogether control her voice, and her shrill screams of negation, “No, no, never,” etc., utterly failed to suppress her wounded lover's obstreperous asseverations of his undying affection for her.

Buck said afterward: “We heard every word of it on our side of the room, even when Mamie shrieked to him that he was talking too loud. Now, Mamie,” said we afterward, “do you think it was kind to tell him he was forty if he was a day?”

Strange to say, the pet general, Edward, rehabilitated his love in a day; at least two days after he was heard to say that he was “paying attentions now to his cousin, John Preston's second daughter; her name, Sally, but they called her Buck—Sally Buchanan Campbell Preston, a lovely girl.” And with her he now drove, rode, and hobbled on his crutches, sent her his photograph, and in due time cannonaded her, from the same spot where he had courted Mary, with proposals to marry him.

Buck was never so decided in her “Nos” as Mary. (“Not so loud, at least” — thus in amendment, says Buck, who always reads what I have written, and makes comments of assent or dissent.) So again he began to thunder in a woman's ears his tender passion. As they rode down Franklin Street, Buck says she knows the people on the sidewalk heard snatches of the conversation, though she rode as rapidly as she could, and she begged him not to talk so loud. Finally, they dashed up to our door as if they had been running a race. Unfortunate in love, but fortunate in war, our general is now winning new laurels with Ewell in the Valley or with the Army of the Potomac.

I think I have told how Miles, still “so gently o'er me leaning,” told of his successful love while General Edward Johnston roared unto anguish and disappointment over his failures. Mr. Miles spoke of sweet little Bettie Bierne as if she had been a French girl, just from a convent, kept far from the haunts of men wholly for him. One would think to hear him that Bettie had never cast those innocent blue eyes of hers on a man until he came along.

Now, since I first knew Miss Bierne in 1857, when Pat Calhoun was to the fore, she has been followed by a tale of men as long as a Highland chief's. Every summer at the Springs, their father appeared in the ballroom a little before twelve and chased the three beautiful Biernes home before him in spite of all entreaties, and he was said to frown away their too numerous admirers at all hours of the day.

This new engagement was confided to me as a profound secret. Of course, I did not mention it, even to my own household. Next day little Alston, Morgan's adjutant, and George Deas called. As Colonel Deas removed his gloves, he said: “Oh! the Miles and Bierne sensation — have you heard of it?” “No, what is the row about?” “They are engaged to be married; that's all.” “Who told you?” “Miles himself, as we walked down Franklin Street, this afternoon.” “And did he not beg you not to mention it, as Bettie did not wish it spoken of?” “God bless my soul, so he did. And I forgot that part entirely.”

Colonel Alston begged the stout Carolinian not to take his inadvertent breach of faith too much to heart. Miss Bettie's engagement had caused him a dreadful night. A young man, who was his intimate friend, came to his room in the depths of despair and handed him a letter from Miss Bierne, which was the cause of all his woe. Not knowing that she was already betrothed to Miles, he had proposed to her in an eloquent letter. In her reply, she positively stated that she was engaged to Mr. Miles, and instead of thanking her for putting him at once out of his misery, he considered the reason she gave as trebly aggravating the agony of the love-letter and the refusal. “Too late!” he yelled, “by Jingo!” So much for a secret.

Miss Bierne and I became fast friends. Our friendship was based on a mutual admiration for the honorable member from South Carolina. Colonel and Mrs. Myers and Colonel and Mrs. Chesnut were the only friends of Mr. Miles who were invited to the wedding. At the church door the sexton demanded our credentials. No one but those whose names he held in his hand were allowed to enter. Not twenty people were present — a mere handful grouped about the altar in that large church.

We were among the first to arrive. Then came a faint flutter and Mrs. Parkman (the bride's sister, swathed in weeds for her young husband, who had been killed within a year of her marriage) came rapidly up the aisle alone. She dropped upon her knees in the front pew, and there remained, motionless, during the whole ceremony, a mass of black crape, and a dead weight on my heart. She has had experience of war. A cannonade around Richmond interrupted her marriage service — a sinister omen — and in a year thereafter her bridegroom was stiff and stark — dead upon the field of battle.

While the wedding-march turned our thoughts from her and thrilled us with sympathy, the bride advanced in white satin and point d'Alençon. Mrs. Myers whispered that it was Mrs. Parkman's wedding-dress that the bride had on. She remembered the exquisite lace, and she shuddered with superstitious forebodings.

All had been going on delightfully in-doors, but a sharp shower cleared the church porch of the curious; and, as the water splashed, we wondered how we were to assemble ourselves at Mrs. McFarland's. All the horses in Richmond had been impressed for some sudden cavalry necessity a few days before. I ran between Mr. McFarland and Senator Semmes with my pretty Paris rose-colored silk turned over my head to save it, and when we arrived at the hospitable mansion of the McFarlands, Mr. McFarland took me straight into the drawing-room, man-like, forgetting that my ruffled plumes needed a good smoothing and preening.

Mrs. Lee sent for me. She was staying at Mrs. Caskie's. I was taken directly to her room, where she was lying on the bed. She said, before I had taken my seat: “You know there is a fight going on now at Brandy Station?”¹ “Yes, we are anxious. John Chesnut's company is there, too.” She spoke sadly, but quietly. “My son, Roony, is wounded; his brother has gone for him. They will soon be here and we shall know all about it unless Roony's wife takes him to her grandfather. Poor lame mother, I am useless to my children.” Mrs. Caskie said: “You need not be alarmed. The General said in his telegram that it was not a severe wound. You know even Yankees believe General Lee.”

That day, Mrs. Lee gave me a likeness of the General in a photograph taken soon after the Mexican War. She likes it so much better than the later ones. He certainly was a handsome man then, handsomer even than now. I shall prize it for Mrs. Lee's sake, too. She said old Mrs. Chesnut and her aunt, Nellie Custis (Mrs. Lewis) were very intimate during Washington's Administration in Philadelphia. I told her Mrs. Chesnut, senior, was the historical member of our family; she had so much to tell of Revolutionary times. She was one of the “white-robed choir” of little maidens who scattered flowers before Washington at Trenton Bridge, which everybody who writes a life of Washington asks her to give an account of.

Mrs. Ould and Mrs. Davis came home with me. Lawrence had a basket of delicious cherries. “If there were only some ice,” said I. Respectfully Lawrence answered, and also firmly: “Give me money and you shall have ice.” By the underground telegraph he had heard of an ice-house over the river, though its fame was suppressed by certain Sybarites, as they wanted it all. In a wonderfully short time we had mint-juleps and sherry-cobblers.

Altogether it has been a pleasant day, and as I sat alone I was laughing lightly now and then at the memory of some funny story. Suddenly, a violent ring; and a regular sheaf of telegrams were handed me. I could not have drawn away in more consternation if the sheets had been a nest of rattlesnakes. First, Frank Hampton was killed at Brandy Station. Wade Hampton telegraphed Mr. Chesnut to see Robert Barnwell, and make the necessary arrangements to recover the body. Mr. Chesnut is still at Wilmington. I sent for Preston Johnston, and my neighbor, Colonel Patton, offered to see that everything proper was done. That afternoon I walked out alone. Willie Mountford had shown me where the body, all that was left of Frank Hampton, was to be laid in the Capitol. Mrs. Petticola joined me after a while, and then Mrs. Singleton.

Preston Hampton and Peter Trezevant, with myself and Mrs. Singleton, formed the sad procession which followed the coffin. There was a company of soldiers drawn up in front of the State House porch. Mrs. Singleton said we had better go in and look at him before the coffin was finally closed. How I wish I had not looked. I remember him so well in all the pride of his magnificent manhood. He died of a saber-cut across the face and head, and was utterly disfigured. Mrs. Singleton seemed convulsed with grief. In all my life I had never seen such bitter weeping. She had her own troubles, but I did not know of them. We sat for a long time on the great steps of the State House. Everybody had gone and we were alone.

We talked of it all — how we had gone to Charleston to see Rachel in Adrienne Lecouvreur, and how, as I stood waiting in the passage near the drawing-room, I had met Frank Hampton bringing his beautiful bride from the steamer. They had just landed. Afterward at Mrs. Singleton's place in the country we had all spent a delightful week together. And now, only a few years have passed, but nearly all that pleasant company are dead, and our world, the only world we cared for, literally kicked to pieces. And she cried, “We are two lone women, stranded here.” Rev. Robert Barnwell was in a desperate condition, and Mary Barnwell, her daughter, was expecting her confinement every day.

Here now, later, let me add that it was not until I got back to Carolina that I heard of Robert Barnwell's death, with scarcely a day's interval between it and that of Mary and her new-born baby. Husband, wife, and child were buried at the same time in the same grave in Columbia. And now, Mrs. Singleton has three orphan grandchildren. What a woful year it has been to her.

Robert Barnwell had insisted upon being sent to the hospital at Staunton. On account of his wife's situation the doctor also had advised it. He was carried off on a mattress. His brave wife tried to prevent it, and said: “It is only fever.” And she nursed him to the last. She tried to say goodby cheerfully, and called after him: “As soon as my trouble is over I will come to you at Staunton.” At the hospital they said it was typhoid fever. He died the second day after he got there. Poor Mary fainted when she heard the ambulance drive away with him. Then she crept into a low trundle-bed kept for the children in her mother's room. She never left that bed again. When the message came from Staunton that fever was the matter with Robert and nothing more, Mrs. Singleton says she will never forget the expression in Mary's eyes as she turned and looked at her. “Robert will get well,” she said, “it is all right.” Her face was radiant, blazing with light. That night the baby was born, and Mrs. Singleton got a telegram that Robert was dead. She did not tell Mary, standing, as she did, at the window while she read it. She was at the same time looking for Robert's body, which might come any moment. As for Mary's life being in danger, she had never thought of such a thing. She was thinking only of Robert. Then a servant touched her and said: “Look at Mrs. Barnwell.” She ran to the bedside, and the doctor, who had come in, said, “It is all over; she is dead.” Not in anger, not in wrath, came the angel of death that day. He came to set Mary free from a world grown too hard to bear.

During Stoneman's raid² I burned some personal papers. Molly constantly said to me, “Missis, listen to de guns. Burn up everything. Mrs. Lyons says they are sure to come, and they'll put in their newspapers whatever you write here, every day.” The guns did sound very near, and when Mrs. Davis rode up and told me that if Mr. Davis left Richmond I must go with her, I confess I lost my head. So I burned a part of my journal but rewrote it afterward from memory — my implacable enemy that lets me forget none of the things I would. I am weak with dates. I do not always worry to look at the calendar and write them down. Besides I have not always a calendar at hand.

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1 The battle of Brandy Station, Va., occurred June 9, 1863.

2 George S. Stoneman, a graduate of West Point, was now a Major-General, and Chief of Artillery in the Army of the Potomac. His raid toward Richmond in 1863 was a memorable incident of the war. After the war, he became Governor of California.

SOURCE: Mary Boykin Chesnut, Edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary, A Diary From Dixie, p. 232-9