Recollections of Mrs. Frances Bernard Goolrick (Mrs. John T. Goolrick) who
was a little girl at that time.
During the stormy winter of 1862, my mother, a widow with three little
children, was still in her native place, Fredericksburg, Virginia. Many of
the inhabitants had long since left for Richmond and other points farther
south, for the town lying just between the hostile armies was the constant
scene of raids and skirmishes, and no one knew at what instant everything
might be swept away from them. My mother, separated from her relatives by
the fortunes of war, decided that it would be best for her to remain where
she was and thus probably save the household effects she had gathered
around her. The strongest arguments had been used by friends in town and
relatives at a distance to induce her to leave for a place of more safety,
but so far without avail, and though we were often alarmed by raids into
town, as yet we had sustained no injuries of any description. In the fall
the Federal army, under General Burnside, was on the Stafford hills just
across the river, and it was constantly rumored that the town would be
bombarded; but lulled to an insecure rest by many false alarms, the people
had but little faith in these rumors.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _Guns Open On The Town_]
On the 11th of December, one of the most cruel and heartless acts of the
war was to be perpetrated, the town of Fredericksburg was bombarded, the
roar of guns beginning at daybreak, with no one in it but old or invalid
men and helpless women and children. As quick as thought, we were up and
dressed, and my aunt being very rapid in her movements, was the first to
reach the cellar. My mother had long since had some chairs and other
pieces of furniture placed there in case of an emergency. I being the
first child dressed, ran out into the yard, and as I turned towards the
cellar steps I beheld, it seemed to me, the most brilliant light that I
had ever seen; as I looked, my aunt reached out her arms and pulled me,
quivering with terror, into the cellar. A shell had exploded at the back
of the garden, in reality at some distance, but to me it was as if it had
been at my very feet. The family soon assembled, including the servants;
we had also additions in the way of two gentlemen from Stafford, Mr. B.
and Mr. G., who had been detained in town, and a Lieutenant Eustace, of
Braxton's battery, who was returning from a visit to his home. Also a
colored family, Uncle Charles and Aunt Judy, with a small boy named
Douglas and two or three other children. The couple had been left in
charge of their mistress' home (she being out of town), and with no cellar
to their house they were fain to come into ours.
[Sidenote: _Hiding From The Shells_]
And now the work of destruction began, and for long hours the only sounds
that greeted our ears were the whizzing and moaning of the shells and the
crash of falling bricks and timber. My mother and we three children were
seated on a low bed with Ca'line, a very small darkey, huddled as close
to us children as she could get, trying to keep warm. Mr. B. and Mr. G.
occupied positions of honor on each side of the large old-fashioned
fire-place, while my aunt was cowering inside, and every time a ball would
roll through the house or a shell explode, she would draw herself up and
moan and shiver. Lieutenant Eustace was a great comfort to my mother, and
having some one to rely on enabled her to keep her courage up during the
terrible ordeal of the cannonading. Although my brother, sister and myself
were all frightened, we could not help laughing at the little darkey
children who were positively stricken dumb with terror, old Aunt Judy
keeping them close to her side and giving them severe cuffs and bangs if
they moved so much as a finger.
My aunt, as well as the rest of us, now began to feel the pangs of hunger,
and Aunt B. ordered the cook in the most positive manner to go up to the
kitchen and make some coffee, telling her that she knew she was afraid and
we would all be satisfied with only a cup of coffee for the present. I
believe Aunt Sally would have gone without a word if my mother had told
her, but this, from an outsider, she could not bear. (Aunt B. was my
uncle's wife and the family servants had seen very little of her.) She,
therefore, demurred, and Aunt B. calling her a coward, she arose in a
perfect fury, and with insubordination written upon her from her rigid
backbone to her flashing eyes, informed Aunt B. "dat she warn no mo' a
coward dan de res' of 'em, but she didn't b'lieve Mars Gen'l Lee hisself
cud stan' up making coffee under dat tornady." Just about this time Uncle
Charles sprawled himself out upon the floor in ungovernable terror, and
called upon the Lord to save him and his family. "Pray for us all, Uncle
Charles," screamed my aunt, her voice just heard above the roar of
artillery. The cannonading was now something fearful. Our house had been
struck twice and the shrieking balls and bursting bombs were enough to
appall the stoutest heart. My aunt being brave in speech, but in reality
very timorous, and Uncle Charles "a bright and shining light" among the
colored persuasion, she again requested him to pray. Aunt Judy by this
time began to bewail that she had "lef' old Miss cow in the cowshed," and
mistaking the moaning of the shells for the dying groans of the cow, she
and Douglas lamented it in true darkey fashion. Uncle Charles meanwhile
was very willing to pray, but Aunt Judy objected strenuously, saying, "dis
ain't no time to be spendin' in pra'ar, Char's Pryor, wid dem bumb shells
flying over you and a fizzlin' around you, and ole Miss cow dyin' right
dar in your sight." But when the house was struck for the third time, Aunt
B., in despairing accents, begged Uncle Charles to pray, so he fell upon
his knees by an old barrel, in the middle of the cellar floor, upon which
sat a solitary candle, whose flickering light lit up his hushed and solemn
countenance, and in tremulous tones with many interjections, offered up a
prayer.
* * * * *
My mother thought of my father's portrait, and afraid of its being injured
she determined to get it herself, and bring it into the cellar. Without
telling anyone of her intentions, she left the cellar and went up into the
parlor; the portrait was hanging just over a sofa, on which she stood to
take it down. She had just reached the door opposite the sofa when a shell
came crashing through the wall, demolishing the sofa on which she had so
recently stood, as well as many other articles of furniture. She reached
the cellar, white and trembling, but with the portrait unhurt in her arms.
[Sidenote: _Cannons Stop For Dinner_]
At one o'clock the cannonading suddenly ceased and for one hour we were at
liberty to go above and see the damage that had been done. My mother's
first efforts were directed towards getting a lunch, of which we were all
sorely in need. With the aid of one of the frightened servants she
succeeded in getting a fire and having some coffee made and with this,
together with some cold bread and ham, we had a plentiful repast.
What a scene met our eyes; our pretty garden was strewn with cannon balls
and pieces of broken shells, limbs knocked off the trees and the grape
arbor a perfect wreck. The house had been damaged considerably, several
large holes torn through it, both in front and back. While we were
deploring the damage that had been done, Lieutenant Eustace returned in
breathless haste to say that he had just heard an order from General Lee
read on Commerce Street, saying that the women and children must leave
town, as he would destroy it with hot shell that night, sooner than let it
fall into the hands of the enemy, who were rapidly crossing the river on
pontoon bridges. They urged my mother to take her children and fly at once
from the town. After resisting until the gentlemen in despair were almost
ready to drag her from her dangerous situation, she finally consented to
leave. The wildest confusion now reigned, the servants wringing their
hands and declaring they could not go without their "Chists," which they
all managed to get somehow, and put upon their heads, but the gentlemen
insisted so that we had only time to save our lives. They would not even
let my mother go back into the house to get her purse or a single
valuable. So we started just as we were; my wrapping, I remember, was an
old ironing blanket, with a large hole burnt in the middle. I never did
find out whether Aunt B. ever got her clothes on, for she stalked ahead of
us, wrapped in a pure white counterpane, a tall, ghostly looking figure,
who seemed to glide with incredible rapidity over the frozen ground. * * *
[Sidenote: _"Refugeeing" in Winter_]
We plodded along under a heavy cross fire, balls falling right and left of
us. We left the town by way of the old "plank road," batteries of
Confederates on both sides. The ground was rough and broken up by the
tramping of soldiers and the heavy wagons and artillery that had passed
over it, so that it was difficult and tiresome to walk, and the sun got
warm by this time and the snow was melting rapidly; the mud was
indescribable.
We had now reached the "Reservoir," a wooden building over "Poplar
Spring," and about a mile from town. I had already lost one of my shoes
several times, because of having no string in it, and my little brother
insisted on giving me one of his, so we sat down by the "Reservoir"
feeling very secure, but were terribly alarmed in a few moments by a ball
coming through the building and whizzing very close to our ears. No, this
would not do, so on we went, footsore and weary; sometimes we would meet a
soldier who would carry one of us a short distance. All of our servants,
except Ca'line, who was only seven years old, had taken some other
direction. When we got about two miles from town we overtook many other
refugees; some were camping by the way, and others pressing on, some to
country houses which were hospitably thrown open to wanderers from home,
and others to "Salem Church," about three miles from Fredericksburg, where
there was a large encampment. Our destination was a house not far from
"Salem Church," which we now call the "Refuge House." Exhausted, we
reached the house by twilight, found there some friends who had been there
some weeks, and who kindly took us into their room and gave us every
attention. And so great was our relief to feel that we had escaped from
the horror of that day, that such small matters as having to sleep in the
room with a dozen people, having no milk and no coffee, our principal diet
consisting of corn bread, bacon and sorghum, seemed only slight troubles.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _Pillage and Plunder_]
From the end of the bombardment, and at the first invasion of the town by
Union forces, until they were driven across the river again,
Fredericksburg was mercilessly sacked. All day, from the houses, and
particularly from the grand old homes that distinguished the town, came
the noise of splintering furniture, the crash of chinaware, and--now and
then--a scream. On the walls hung headless portraits, the face gashed by
bayonets. Bayonets ripped open mattresses and the feathers heaped in piles
or blew about the streets, littered with women's and men's clothing and
letters and papers thrown out of desks. Mahogany furniture warmed the
despoilers, and ten thousand were drunk on pilfered liquors. Windows and
doors were smashed, the streets full of debris, through which drunken
men grotesquely garbed in women's shawls and bonnets, staggered; flames
rose in smoke pillars here and there, and the provost guard was helpless
to control the strange orgy of stragglers and camp followers who were wild
with plunder lust, amid the dead and wounded strewn about. A fearful
picture of war was Fredericksburg in those December days from the eleventh
to the thirteenth.
[Illustration: THE CONFEDERATE CEMETERY
_In The Lower Left Corner the Plank Road and Marye's Heights_]
[Sidenote: _A Carnival of Horrors_]
To the citizens of Fredericksburg, those days meant bankruptcy, for their
slaves walked away, their stores and churches were battered, their
silverware stolen, their homes despoiled and their clothing worn or thrown
away. Wealthy men were to walk back a few days later to their home town as
paupers; women and children were to come back to hunger and discomfort in
bleak winter weather; and all this was the result of what General Lee said
was an entirely "unnecessary" bombardment and of days of pillage, which no
earnest attempt to stop was made. Fredericksburg was the blackest spot on
Burnside's none too effulgent reputation.
From the army, from Southern cities and from individuals money for relief
came liberally, and in all nearly $170,000. was contributed to aid in
feeding, clothing and making habitable homes for the unfortunate town's
people. A good many carloads of food came, too, but the whole barely
relieved the worst misery, for the $170,000. was Confederate money, with
its purchasing power at low mark.
_The First Battle_
_When, at Mayre's Heights and Hamilton's Crossing, war claimed her
sacrifice_
Following the shelling of Fredericksburg, on December 11th, the Union army
began to cross on pontoons. On the 12th of December, under cover of the
guns and of fog, almost the whole Union army crossed on three pontoons,
one near the foot of Hawk street, another just above the car bridge, and
one at Deep Run. On the morning of December 13th, General Burnside's army
was drawn up in a line of battle from opposite Falmouth to Deep Run. It
was, say they who saw the vast army with artillery and cavalry advanced,
banners flying and the bayonets of their infantry hosts gleaming as the
fog lifted, one of the most imposing sights of the war.
General Burnside actually had in line and fought during the day, according
to his report, 100,000 effective men.
General Lee had 57,000 effectives, ranged along the hills from Taylor,
past Snowden, past Marye's Heights, past Hazel Run and on to Hamilton's
Crossing.
There were preliminary skirminishes of cavalry, light artillery and
infantry. The enemy tried to "feel" General Lee's lines.
Then, about 10 o'clock, they advanced against the hills near Hamilton's
Crossing, where Jackson's Corps was posted, in a terrific charge across a
broad plateau between the river and the hills to within a quarter of a
mile of the Confederate position, where they broke under terrific
artillery and musketry fire. At one o'clock 55,000 men, the whole of
Franklin's and Hooker's Grand Divisions advanced again in the mightiest
single charge of the Civil War. Stuart and Pelham (he earned that day from
Lee the title of "The Gallant Pelham") raked them with light artillery,
but nevertheless they forced a wedge through Jackson's lines and had won
the day, until Jackson's reserves, thrown into the breach, drove them out
and threw back the whole line. As dusk came on, Stuart and Pelham counter
charged, advancing their guns almost to the Bowling Green road, and
Jackson prepared to charge and "drive them into the river," but was
stopped by the heavy Union guns on Stafford hills.
[Sidenote: _At Hamilton's Crossing_]
During the fiercest part of the battle, "Stonewall" Jackson was on the
hill just on the Fredericksburg side of Hamilton's Crossing where Walker's
artillery was posted, but toward evening, fired with his hope of driving
the Union forces across the river, he rode rapidly from place to place,
sending out frequent orders. One of these he gave to an aide.
"Captain, go through there and if you and your horse come out alive, tell
Stuart I am going to advance my whole line at sunset." It was this charge,
mentioned above, which failed.
Late that night, rising from the blankets which he shared with a Chaplain,
Jackson wrote some orders. While he was doing this, an orderly came and
standing at the tent flap, said, "General Gregg is dying, General, and
sent me to say to you that he wrote you a letter recently in which he used
expressions he is sorry for. He says he meant no disrespect by that letter
and was only doing what he thought was his duty. He hopes you will forgive
him."
Without hesitation, Jackson, who was deeply stirred, answered, "Tell
General Gregg I will be with him directly."
He rode through the woods back to where the brave Georgian was dying, and
day was about to break when he came back to his troops.
General Maxey Gregg, of Georgia, was killed in action here, as were a
number of other gallant officers.
Jackson held the right of the Confederate lines all day with 26,000 men
against 55,000. His losses were about 3,415, while Hooker and Franklin
lost 4,447. Meanwhile, against Marye's Heights, the left center of the
line, almost two miles away, General Burnside sent again and again
terrific infantry charges.
[Sidenote: _The Charge at Marye's Heights_]
The hills just back of Fredericksburg are fronted by an upward sloping
plane, and at the foot of that part of the hills called Marye's Heights is
a stone wall and the "Sunken Road"--as fatal here for Burnside as was the
Sunken Road at Waterloo for Napoleon. On Marye's Heights was the
Washington Artillery, and a number of guns--a veritable fortress, ready,
as General Pegram said, "to sweep the plans in front as close as a
fine-tooth comb." At the foot of the heights behind the stone wall were
Cobb's Georgians, Kershaw's South Carolinians, and Ransom's and Cobb's
North Carolinas--nine thousand riflemen, six deep, firing over the front
lines' shoulders, so that, so one officer wrote "they literally sent
bullets in sheets."
Against this impregnable place, Burnside launched charge after charge, and
never did men go more bravely and certainly to death. This was
simultaneous with the fighting at Hamilton's Crossing.
Meagher's Irish Brigade went first across the plain. Detouring from
Hanover street and George street, they formed line of battle on the lowest
ground, and with cedar branches waving in their hats, bravely green in
memory of "the ould sod" they swept forward until the rifles behind the
wall and the cannon on the hill decimated their ranks; and yet again they
formed and charged, until over the whole plain lay the dead, with green
cedar boughs waving idly in their hats. The Irish Brigade was practically
exterminated, and three more charges by larger bodies failed, although one
Northern officer fell within twenty-five yards of the wall. The day ended
in the utter defeat of the Union Army, which withdrew into Fredericksburg
at night.
In front of the wall 8,217 Union soldiers were killed or wounded, and in
the "Sunken Road" the Confederates lost 1,962.
The total Union loss in the whole battle of Fredericksburg was 12,664 and
the Confederates' loss 5,377.
General J. R. Cook, of the Confederate Army, was killed almost at the spot
where Cobb fell. General C. F. Jackson and General Bayard, of the Union
Army, were killed, the latter dying in the Bernard House, "Mansfield,"
where Franklin had his headquarters.
[Sidenote: _The Death of General Cobb_]
General T. R. R. Cobb, the gallant commander of the Georgians, fell
mortally wounded at the stone wall, and tradition has said that he was
killed by a shell fired from the lawn of his mother's home, a dramatic
story that is refuted by evidence that he was killed by a sharpshooter in
a house at the left and in front of the "Sunken Road."
But the brilliant Georgian, who aided in formulating the Confederate
Constitution, was killed within sight of the house, where, more than forty
years before, the elder Cobb met, and in which he married, she who was to
be the General's mother. Journeying late in 1819 North to attend Congress,
Senator John Forsythe, who was born in Fredericksburg, and Senator Cobb,
Sr., were guests of Thomas R. Rootes, Esq., at Federal Hill, a great house
that sits at the edge of the town, overlooking the little valley and
Marye's Heights, and there began a romance that led to marriage of Miss
Rootes and Senator Cobb, in the mansion, in 1820. From the spot where he
stood when he died, had not the smoke of a terrific battle screened it,
their son, the Georgian General, could have clearly seen the windows of
the room in which his parents were married.
General Cobb died in the yard of a small house, just at the edge of the
"Sunken Road," ministered to in his last moments, as was many another man
who drank the last bitter cup that day, by an angel of mercy and a woman
of dauntless courage, Mrs. Martha Stevens.
Her house was in the center of the fire, yet she refused to leave it, and
there between the lines, with the charges rolling up to her yard fence and
tons of lead shrieking about her, Mrs. Stevens stayed all day, giving the
wounded drink, and bandaging their wounds until every sheet and piece of
clothing in the house had been used to bind a soldier's hurts. At times
the fire of Northern troops was concentrated on her house so that General
Lee, frowning, turned to those about him and said: "I wish those people
would let Mrs. Stevens alone."
Nothing in the war was finer than the spirit of this woman, who stayed
between the lines in and about her house, through the planks of which now
and then a bullet splintered its way, miraculously living in a hail of
missiles where, it seemed, nothing else could live.
[Sidenote: _Lee Spares Old "Chatham"_]
During the battle at Fredericksburg, General Lee stood on "Lee's Hill," an
eminence near Hazel Run, and between Marye's Heights and Hamilton's
crossing. Looking across the Rappahannock he could see "Chatham," the
great winged brick house where General Burnside had headquarters, and
where, under the wide spreading oaks, General Lee had won his bride, the
pretty Mary Custis. The fine old place was now the property of Major Lacy,
who rode up to Lee and said: "General there are a group of Yankee officers
on my porch. I do not want my house spared. I ask permission to give
orders to shell it." General Lee, smiling, said: "Major, I do not want to
shell your fine old house. Besides, it has tender memories for me. I
courted my bride under its trees."
In all this saturnalia of blood, it is a relief to find something in
lighter vein, and in this case it is furnished by two Irishmen, Meagher
and Mitchell. This little incident takes us back some years to "Ould
Ireland." Here three young Irishmen, Charles Francis Meagher, John Boyle
O'Reily and John Mitchell, known respectively, as the Irish Orater, Poet
and Patriot, fired by love for Free Ireland and Home Rule, earned exile
for themselves and left Ireland hurriedly. O'Reily settled in Boston and
became a well-known poet and a champion of the North. Meagher settled in
New York, and at the outbreak of the War organized the Irish Brigade, of
which he was made Brigadier-General. Mitchell settled in Richmond, where
he became the editor of the Richmond Enquirer, and, as a spectator, stood
on Marye's Heights during the battle and witnessed the desperate charges
and bloody repulses of his old friend, Meagher; and as he watched he
unburdened his soul. His refrain varied between exultation at the sight of
a fine fight and execration, in picturesque and satisfying language, of
the "renegade Irishman," his one-time friend, who would fight against the
very principle, the advocacy of which had brought them exile from Ireland.
[Illustration: MARYE'S HEIGHTS; THE STONE WALL
_It was Here that the Terrible and Spectacular Charges Spent Themselves.
The Sunken Road is in the Foreground_]
Mitchell's grandson was John Purroy Mitchell, mayor of New York City, who
died in the Aviation service during the late war.
[Sidenote: _The Good Samaritan_]
There was another soul at the Battle of Fredericksburg whose spirit of
mercy to the suffering was stronger than the dread of death, and in the
Chapel of the Prince of Peace at Gettysburg, is a tablet to him, Dick
Kirkland--the "Angel of Marye's Heights"--a gracious memorial placed by
the Federal survivors of that fight.
Dick Kirkland, a Southern soldier, who all day long had fought behind the
Stone Wall, laid aside all animosity when night fell and the bitter cries
arose in the chill air from the wounded and dying on the plain. The
pitiful calls for "water, water" so moved the young South Carolinian that
he asked his commanding officer to be allowed to relieve the sufferers.
His request was at first refused, but when he begged, permission was
given, and taking as many full canteens as he could carry, he went out
among the pitiful forms dotting the field, while the shells and rifle fire
still made it most dangerous, administering to the enemy. He was a good
Samaritan and unafraid, who is affectionately remembered by a grateful
foe. Kirkland was more merciful to the wounded Federals than was their
commander, for it was forty-eight hours before General Burnside could
swallow his pride and acknowledge defeat by applying for a truce. In the
interval, during forty-eight hours of winter weather while the wounded lay
unsheltered, chill winds sweeping over them, the wailing and the agonized
crying slowly died out. Every wounded man who could not crawl or walk
died, and when the truce came more than four thousand bodies were piled in
front of the "Sunken Road."
At night of December 13th, Burnside was utterly defeated and after quietly
facing the Southern forces all day on the 14th, he was practically forced
to abandon his battle plans by the protests of his Generals, who
practically refused to charge again, and moved his army across the river
at night.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _A Critique of the Armies_]
In the whole action at Fredericksburg, General Lee used but 57,000 men,
while official reports state that the Northern forces "in the fight"
numbered 100,000. As bearing on this (and most assuredly with no intention
to belittle the gallant men of the Federal Army, who fought so bravely)
the condition of Burnside's Army, due to the policy of his government and
to Major-General Hooker's insubordination, is to be considered. An
estimate of this army by the New York Times shows to what pass vacillation
had brought it. The Times said after Fredericksburg:
"Sad, sad it is to look at this superb Army of the Potomac--the match of
which no conqueror ever led--this incomparable army, fit to perform the
mission the country has imposed upon it--paralyzed, petrified, put under a
blight and a spell. You see men who tell you that they have been in a
dozen battles and have been licked and chased every time--they would like
to chase once to see how it "feels." This begins to tell on them. Their
splendid qualities, their patience, faith, hope and courage, are gradually
oozing out. Certainly never were a graver, gloomier, more sober, sombre,
serious and unmusical body of men than the Army of the Potomac at the
present time."
On the other hand, thus spoke the correspondent of the London Times of the
"tatterdermalion regiments of the South":
"It is a strange thing to look at these men, so ragged, slovenly,
sleeveless, without a superfluous ounce of flesh on their bones, with
wild, matted hair, in mendicants rags, and to think, when the battle flags
go to the front, how they can and do fight. 'There is only one attitude in
which I should never be ashamed of you seeing my men, and that is when
they are fighting.' These were General Lee's words to me the first time I
ever saw him."
_At Chancellorsville_
_The Struggle in the Pine Woods when death struck at Southern hearts_
From the close of the battle at Fredericksburg in December 1862, until the
spring of 1863, General Burnside's Army of the Potomac and General Lee's
Army of Northern Virginia lay in camp; the first on the north and the
second on the south bank of the Rappahannock. The little town, now fairly
well repopulated by returned refugees, lay between the hosts. The Northern
lines practically began at Falmouth, where General Daniel Butterfield had
headquarters, and at which spot young Count Zeppelin and his assistants
were busily arranging to send up a great Observation Balloon with a
signalling outfit. Southward, Lee's army stretched over thirty-three
miles, from the fords of the Rappahannock, where the hard riding
cavalrymen of Stuart and W. H. F. Lee watched, to Port Royal, Jackson's
right.
Burnside's headquarters were the Phillips house and Chatham, (recently
owned by the famous journalist, Mark Sullivan and where he and Mrs.
Sullivan made their home for some years). Hooker, part of the time, was at
the Phillips house, Lee in a tent, near Fredericksburg, while General
Jackson had headquarters first in an outbuilding at Moss Neck, now the
home of Count d'Adhemar and later in a tent. It was here that he became
fond of little Farley Carbin, who came every day to perch on his knee and
receive little presents from him. One day he had nothing to give her, and
so, ere she left, he tore the gold braid from the new hat that was part of
a handsome uniform just given him by General "Jeb" Stuart, and placed it
like a garland on her pretty curly head. During the winter the General,
who from the beginning of the war never slept at night outside his army's
camp, nor had an hour's leave of absence, saw for the first time since he
left Lexington, and for next to the last time on earth, his wife and
little daughter, whom he so fervently loved. They spent some weeks near
him at Moss Neck.
[Sidenote: _Christmas at the Front_]
Christmas Eve came. In the Southern camp back of the hills down the river
road, up towards Banks Ford, out at Salem Church, and even in the town,
hunger and cold were the lot of all. General Lee, wincing at the
sufferings of his "tatterdermalion" forces, wrote and asked that the
rations of his men be increased, but a doctor-inspector sent out by the
often futile Confederate Government reported that the bacon ration of
Lee's army--one-half a pound a day, might be cut down, as "the men can be
_kept alive_ on this." General Lee himself wrote that his soldiers were
eating berries, leaves, roots and the bark of trees to "supplement the
ration," and although at this time the Confederate Government had a store
of bacon and corn meal that would have fed _all_ its armies a half year,
Lee's ragged soldiers starved throughout the winter. It is worthy of note
here that when Lee's starving army moved, foodless, toward that last day
at Appomattox, they marched past 50,000 pounds of bacon alone, which the
Confederate commissary, at Mr. Jefferson Davis' orders, burned next day.
We spoke of Christmas Eve, when in the long lines of the two camps' great
fires beamed, voices rose in songs and hymns, and bands played. Late in
the evening, when dusk had settled, a band near Brompton broke out
defiantly into "Dixie," and from the Washington Farm a big band roared out
"The Battle Hymn." There was a pause and then, almost simultaneously, they
began "Home, Sweet Home," and catching the time played it through
together. When it was done, up from the camps of these boys who were to
kill and be killed, who were to die in misery on many a sodden field, rose
a wild cheer.
Hardly could two great armies ever before have lain for months' within
sight of each other as these two did in almost amicable relations. There
was no firing; the cannon-crowned hills were silent. Drills and great
reviews took place on either bank of the river and in the Confederate
ranks there went on a great religious "revival" that swept through the
organization. Along the banks of the river where pickets; patrolled by
day, and their little fires flamed in the night, trading was active. From
the Union bank would come the call softly:
"Johnny."
"Yea, Yank."
"Got any tobacco?"
"Yes, want 't trade?"
"Half pound of coffee for two plugs of tobacco, Reb."
"'right, send 'er over."
They traded coffee, tobacco, newspapers and provisions, sometimes wading
out and meeting in mid-river, but as the industry grew, miniature ferry
lines, operated by strings, began to ply.
Soldiers and Generals passed and repassed in the streets of
Fredericksburg, where wreckage still lay about in confusion, houses
presented dilapidated fronts, and only a few of the citizens attempted to
occupy their homes.
Once, in midwinter, the armies became active when Burnside attempted to
move his army and cross the river above Fredericksburg; but only for a few
days, for that unfortunate General's plans were ruined by a deluge and his
army "stuck in the mud." General Hooker took his place.
[Sidenote: _The Coming of Spring_]
About April 26 Hooker's great army, "The finest army on the planet," he
bombastically called it, moved up the river and began crossing. It was his
purpose to get behind Lee's lines, surprise him and defeat him from the
rear. On April twenty-ninth and thirtieth, Hooker got in position around
Chancellorsville, in strong entrenchments, a part of his army amounting to
85,000 men, but the Confederate skirmishers were already in front of him.
It was the Northern Commander's plan for Sedgwick, left at Fredericksburg
with 40,000, to drive past Fredericksburg and on to Chancellorsville, and
thus to place the Southern forces between the two big Federal armies and
crush it.
[Sidenote: _The First Aerial Scout_]
Before the great battle of Chancellorsville began, this message came down
from the first balloon ever successfully used in war, tugging at its cable
two thousand feet above the Scott house, on Falmouth Heights:
Balloon in the Air, April 29, 1863.
Major-General Butterfield,
Chief of Staff, Army of the Potomac.
General: The enemy's line of battle is formed in the edge of the
woods, at the foot of the heights, from opposite Fredericksburg to
some distance to the left of our lower crossing. Their line appears
quite thin, compared with our forces. Their tents all remain as
heretofore, as far as I can see.
T. C. S. LOWE,
Chief of Aeronauts.
But the force did not "remain as heretofore" long, though the tents were
left to confuse the enemy, for on April 29 General Anderson moved to
Chancellorsville, followed on April 30 by General McLaws; and under cover
of darkness "Stonewall Jackson" moved to the same place that night, with
26,000 men. On May 1, then, Hooker's 91,000 at Chancellorsville were being
pressed by Lee's army of 46,000.
General Early's command of 9,000 and Barksdale's brigade of 1,000 and some
detached troops were left to defend Fredericksburg against Sedgwick's
corps, which was now crossing the Rappahannock, 30,000 strong. At 11 A.
M., May 1, General Lee's army, with Jackson's corps on his left, began the
attack at Chancellorsville, of which this dispatch speaks:
Balloon in the Air, May 1, 1863.
Major-General Sedgwick,
Commanding Left Wing, Army of the Potomac.
General: In a northwest direction, about twelve miles, an engagement
is going on.
T. C. S. LOWE,
Chief of Aeronauts.
[Sidenote: _Fight at Chancellorsville_]
Before evening of May 1 Hooker's advance guard was driven back, and the
Confederate forces swept on until within one mile of Chancellorsville, and
there, stopped by a "position of great natural strength" (General Lee) and
by deep entrenchments, log breastworks and felled trees, they ceased to
progress. It was evident at nightfall that with his inferior force the
Southern commander could not drive Hooker, and that if he failed to do so,
Sedgwick would drive back the small force in Fredericksburg and would come
on from Fredericksburg and crush him.
Jackson and Lee bivouaced that night near where the Old Plank Road and the
Furnace Road intersect, and here formulated their plans for the morrow.
From Captain Murray Taylor, of General A. P. Hill's staff, they learned
that a road existed, by advancing down which (the Furnace Road) then
turning sharply and marching in a "V" Jackson's plan to turn Hooker's
right might be carried out, and at Captain Taylor's suggestion they sent
for "Jack" Hayden, who could not be gotten at once, and who, being an old
man, was "hiding out" to avoid "Yankee" marauders.
Lee and Jackson slept on the ground. Jackson, over whom an officer had
thrown his overcoat, despite his protests, waited until the officer dozed,
gently laid the coat over him and slept uncovered, as he had not brought
his own overcoat. Later, arising chilled, he sat by the fire until near
dawn, when his army got in motion.
When Jackson moved away in the early hours of May 2 there were left to
face Hooker's 91,000 men on the Federal left, Lee's 14,000 men, attacking
and feinting, and nowhere else a man. Jackson was moving through tangled
forests, over unused roads, and before 5 o'clock of that memorable
afternoon of May 2 he had performed the never-equalled feat of moving an
army, infantry and artillery of 26,000 men sixteen miles, entirely around
the enemy, and reversing his own army's front. He was now across the Plank
Road and the Turnpike, about four miles from Chancellorsville, facing
toward Lee's line, six miles away. And Hooker was between them!
[Sidenote: _Jackson's Stroke of Genius_]
It was 5:30 when Jackson's command (Colston's and Rhodes' Divisions, with
A. P. Hill in reserve) gave forth the rebel yell and sweeping along
through the woods parallel to the roads, fell on Hooker's right while the
unsuspecting army was at supper. The Federals fled in utter disorder.
Before his victorious command, Jackson drove Hooker's army through the
dark pine thickets until the Federal left had fallen on Chancellorsville
and the right wing was piled up and the wagon trains fleeing, throwing the
whole retreating army into confusion. At 9 o'clock he held some of the
roads in Hooker's rear, and the Northern army was in his grasp.
Hill was to go forward now. He rode to the front with his staff, a short
distance behind Jackson, who went a hundred yards ahead of the Confederate
lines on the turnpike to investigate. Bullets suddenly came singing from
the Northern lines and Jackson turned and rode back to his own lines.
Suddenly a Confederate picket shouted "Yankee cavalry," as he rode through
the trees along the edge of the Plank Road. Then a volley from somewhere
in Lane's North Carolina ranks poured out, and three bullets struck
Jackson in the hand and arms. His horse bolted, but was stopped and
turned, and Jackson was aided by General Hill to dismount. Almost all of
Hill's staff were killed or wounded.
There was trouble getting a litter, and the wounded man tried to walk,
leaning on Major Leigh and Lieutenant James Power Smith. The road was
filled with men, wounded, retreating, lost from their commands. Hill's
lines were forming for a charge and from these Jackson hid his face--they
must not know he was wounded. A litter was brought and they bore the
sufferer through the thickets until a fusilade passed about them and
struck down a litter-bearer, so that the General was thrown from the
litter his crushed shoulder striking a pine stump, and now for the first
time, and last time, he groaned. Again they bore him along the Plank
Road until a gun loaded with canister swept that road clear, and the
litter-bearers fled, leaving General Jackson lying in the road. And here,
with infinite heroism, Lieutenant Smith (see sketch of life) and Major
Leigh lay with their bodies over him to shield him from missiles.
[Illustration: WHERE "STONEWALL JACKSON" DIED
_In the Room on the Lower Floor, the Window of Which Looks Out on the
Little Bush, The South's Hero Passed Away_]
[Sidenote: _The Death of "Stonewall"_]
Later the wounded officer was gotten to a field headquarters near
Wilderness Run, and Dr. Hunter McGuire and assistants amputated one arm
and bound the other arm and hand. Two days later he was removed to Mr.
Chandler's home, near Guineas, where, refusing to enter the mansion
because he feared his presence might bring trouble on the occupants should
the Federals come, and because the house was crowded with other wounded,
he was placed in a small outbuilding, which stands today. The record of
his battle against death in this little cabin, his marvelous trust in God
and his uncomplaining days of suffering until he opened his lips to feebly
say: "Let us pass over the river and rest under the shade of the trees" is
a beautiful story in itself. He died from pneumonia, which developed when
his wounds were beginning to heal. The wounds only would not have killed
him and the pneumonia probably resulted from sleeping uncovered on the
night before referred to. Mrs. Jackson and their little child, Dr. Hunter
McGuire, Lieutenant James Power Smith, his aide-de-camp; Mrs. Beasley and
a negro servant were those closest to him in his dying hours.
Hill succeeded Jackson, and in twenty minutes was wounded and Stuart
succeeded him, and fighting ceased for the night.
On May 3, General Lee attacked again, uniting his left wing with Stuart's
right, and a terrific battle took place that lasted all day, and at its
end Hooker's great army was defeated and dispirited, barely holding on in
their third line trenches, close to the river; that worse did not befall
him was due to events about Fredericksburg. (We may note here that Hooker
lost at Chancellorsville 16,751 men while Lee lost about 11,000.)
[Sidenote: _Battle at Salem Church_]
For Sedgwick, with 30,000 men, took Marye's Heights at 1 o'clock of this
day, losing about 1,000 men, and immediately General Brooks' division
(10,000) marched out the Plank Road, where on each successive crest,
Wilcox's Alabamians, with a Virginia battery of two guns (4,000 in all)
disputed the way. At Salem Church, General Wilcox planted his troops for a
final stand.
Here at Salem Church the battle began when Sedgwick's advance guard,
beating its way all day against a handful of Confederates, finally formed
late in the afternoon of May 3, prepared to throw their column in a grand
assault against the few Confederates standing sullenly on the pine ridge
which crosses the Plank Road at right angles about where Salem Church
stands. Less than 4,000 Alabama troops, under General Wilcox, held the
line, and against these General Brooks, of Sedgwick's corps, threw his
10,000 men. They rushed across the slopes, met in the thicket, and here
they fought desperately for an hour. Reinforcements reached the
Confederates at sundown, and next morning General Lee had come with
Anderson's and McLaw's commands, and met nearly the whole of Sedgwick's
command, charging them late in the afternoon of May 4, and driving them so
that, before daybreak, they had retreated across the river. Then, turning
back to attack Hooker, he found the latter also crossing the river.
Unique in the history of battles are the two monuments which stand near
Salem Church, erected by the State of New Jersey and gallantly uttering
praise of friend and foe.
They mark the farthest advance of the New Jersey troops. The first, on the
right of the Plank Road as one goes from Fredericksburg to
Chancellorsville, is a monument to the Fifteenth New Jersey troops, and on
one side is inscribed:
"The survivors of the Fifteenth New Jersey Infantry honor their
comrades who bore themselves bravely in this contest, and bear witness
to the valor of the men who opposed them on this field."
[Sidenote: _Monument at Salem Church_]
The other monument stands on the ridge at Salem Church, close to the road,
and about where the charge of the Twenty-third New Jersey shattered itself
against the thin lines of Wilcox's Alabamians. It stands just where these
two bodies of troops fought hand to hand amidst a rolling fire of
musketry, bathing the ground in blood. In the end the Confederates
prevailed, but when the State of New Jersey erected the monument they did
not forget their foe. It is the only monument on a battlefield that pays
homage alike to friend and enemy.
The monument was unveiled in 1907, Governor E. Bird Gubb, who led the
Twenty-third New Jersey, being the principal speaker. Thousands were
present at the ceremonies.
On one side of the splendid granite shaft is a tablet, on which is
engraved:
"To the memory of our heroic comrades who gave their lives for their
country's unity on this battlefield, this tablet is dedicated."
And on the other side another tablet is inscribed:
"To the brave Alabama boys, our opponents on this battlefield, whose
memory we honor, this tablet is dedicated."
_Two Great Battles_
_The fearful fire swept Wilderness, and the Bloody Angle at
Spottsylvania_
After Chancellorsville, the Confederate Army invaded the North, and Hooker
left the Stafford Hills to follow Lee into Pennsylvania. When Gettysburg
was over, both armies came back to face each other along the Rappahannock,
twenty to thirty miles above Fredericksburg.
Now, Chancellorsville is in a quiet tract of scrub pine woods, twelve
miles west of Fredericksburg. The Plank Road and the Turnpike run toward
it and meet there, only to diverge three miles or so west, and six miles
still further west (from Chancellorsville) the two roads cross Wilderness
Run--the Turnpike crosses near Wilderness Tavern, the Plank Road about
five miles southward.
Two miles from Wilderness Tavern on the Turnpike is Mine Run. Here General
Meade, now commanding the Northern Army, moved his forces, and on December
1, 1863, the two armies were entrenched. But after skirmishes, Meade, who
had started toward Richmond, decided not to fight and retreated with the
loss of 1,000 men.
In the spring General Grant, now commander-in-chief, began to move from
the vicinity of Warrenton, and on May 4, 1864, his vast army was treading
the shadowed roads through the Wilderness. It was one of the greatest
armies that has ever been engaged in mobile warfare; for, by official
records, Grant had 141,000 men.
Lee's army--he had now 64,000 men--was moving in three columns from the
general direction of Culpeper.
Grant intended to get between Lee and Richmond, but he failed, for the
Confederate commander met him in the tangled Wilderness, and one of the
most costly battles of the war began--a battle than can barely be touched
on here, for, fought as it was in the woods, the lines wavering and
shifting and the attack now from one side, now from the other, it became
so involved that a volume is needed to tell the story.
It is sufficient to say that the first heavy fighting began along the
Turnpike near Wilderness Run, on May 4 and 5, and that shortly afterwards
the lines were heavily engaged on each side of, and parallel to, the Plank
Road. Northward, on the Germanna road, charges and countercharges were
made, and on May 6, Sedgwick's line finally broke and gave ground before a
spirited charge by part of Ewell's corps--the brigades of Gordon, Johnston
and Pegram doubling up that flank.
The Northern left (on the Plank Road), which had been driven back once,
rallied on the morning of May 6, and in a counter-attack threatened
disaster to the Confederates under Heth and Wilcox who (this was in the
forenoon) were driven back by a terrific charge from the Federal lines
near Brock Road. Expected for hours, Longstreet's march-worn men came up
at this critical moment along Plank Road. Heading this column that had
been moving since midnight was a brigade of Texans and toward these
General Lee rode, calling:
"What troops are these?"
The first answer was simply:
"Texans, General."
[Sidenote: _"General Lee to the Rear"_]
"My brave Texas boys, you must charge. You _must_ drive those people
back," the Confederate commander said, so earnestly that the Texas troops
began to form while Lee personally rallied the men who by now were pouring
back from the front. Then as Longstreet's men began to go forward Lee rode
with them until the line paused while the cry arose from all directions
"General Lee, go to the rear. Lee to the rear." Officers seized his
bridle. "If you will go to the rear, General," said an officer waving his
hand toward the lines "these men will drive 'those people' back." His
promise was made good, for as Lee drew back, Longstreet's men--General
Longstreet himself had now reached the head of the column--rushed through
the woods, driving the advancing Federals back, and piercing their lines
in two places. Before a second and heavier assault the whole line fell
back to entrenchments in front of Brock Road, and soon the junction of
that road and Plank Road was within Longstreet's reach, and the Northern
line threatened with irretrievable disaster.
And now, for the second time, just as a great victory was at hand, the
Southern troops shot their leader. General Longstreet was advancing along
the Plank Road with General Jenkins, at the head of the latter's troops,
when--mistaken for a body of the enemy--they were fired into. General
Longstreet was seriously wounded, General Jenkins killed, and the forward
movement was checked for several hours, during which the Federals
reinforced the defenses at the junction.
[Sidenote: _Grant's Advance Defeated_]
At night of May 6 Grant had been defeated of his purpose, his army driven
back over a mile along a front of four miles, and terrific losses
inflicted--for he lost in the Wilderness 17,666 men, while the Confederate
losses were 10,641. General Hays (Federal) was killed near the junction of
Plank and Brock Roads.
Fire now raged through the tangled pines and out of the smoke through the
long night came the screams of the wounded, who helplessly waited the
coming of the agonizing flames. Thousands of mutilated men lay there for
hours and hours feeling the heated breath of that which was coming to
devour them, helpless to move, while the fire swept on through the
underbrush and dead leaves.
The battle had no result. Grant was badly defeated, but, unlike Burnside,
Hooker and Meade, he did not retreat across the Rappahannock. Instead,
pursuing his policy and figuring that 140,000 men against 60,000 men could
fight until they killed the 60,000, themselves loosing two to one, and
still have 20,000 left, he moved "by the flank."
By the morning of May 8 Grant's army, moving by the rear, was reaching
Spotsylvania Court House by the Brock Road and the Chancellorsville Road.
General Lee has no road to move on. But on the night of May 7 his
engineers cut one through the Wilderness to Shady Grove Church and his
advance guard moving over this intercepted Warren's corps two miles from
the Court House and halted the advance. By the night of May 8, Lee's whole
army was in a semi-circle, five or six miles in length, about the Court
House. The center faced northward and crossed the Fredericksburg Road.
Grant attacked feebly on May 10, and again on May 11, and because of the
lightness of these attacks Lee believed Grant would again move "by the
flank" toward Richmond. But before dawn on May 12 Hancock's corps struck
the apex of a salient just beyond the Court House, breaking the lines and
capturing General Edward Johnson and staff and 1,200 men.
[Sidenote: _The Day of "Bloody Angle"_]
In this salient, now known as the "Bloody Angle," occurred one of the most
terrible hand-to-hand conflicts of modern warfare. From dawn to dawn, in
the area of some 500 acres which the deep and well-fortified trenches of
the angle enclosed, more than 60,000 men fought that day. Artillery could
hardly be used, because of the mixture of the lines, but nowhere in the
war was such rifle fire known. The Northern forces broke the left of the
salient, took part of the right, and, already having the apex, pushed
their troops through. The lines swayed, advancing and retreating all day.
Toward evening the gallant Gordan advancing from base line of the Angle,
with his whole command pouring in rifle fire, but mostly using the
bayonet, drove back the Federals slowly, and at night the Confederates
held all except the apex. But General Lee abandoned the salient after
dark, and put his whole force in the base line. Here General Grant
hesitated to attack him.
All along the lines about Spotsylvania desperate fighting occurred that
day, but the battle was distinctly a draw. Both armies lay in their
trenches, now and then skirmishing, until May 18, when Grant withdrew,
again moving "by the flank," this time toward Milford, on the R., F. & P.
Railroad.
Near the Bloody Angle, on the Brock Road, where it is intersected by a
cross road, General Sedgwick was killed by a sharpshooter concealed in a
tree. He fell from his horse, and although his aides summoned medical help
he died almost immediately. The tree from which it is said the
sharpshooter killed him is still standing.
General Lee had at Spotsylvania about 55,000 men and General Grant about
124,000.
The Federal loss was 15,577. The Confederate loss was 11,578. A large part
of these, probably 15,000, fell in the Bloody Angle.[1]
[1] Figures, see official reports.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _Our Part in Other Wars_]
In the War of 1812 only one company was formed here, commanded by Colonel
Hamilton. This company did really very little service. The fear that the
enemy would come up the Rappahannock River to attack this place was never
realized.
* * * * *
In the war with Mexico it is not recorded that any distinctive company was
enrolled here, although a number of its young men enlisted, and one of the
Masons of Gunston was the first man killed, in the ambush of the First
Dragoons on the Mexican border. General Daniel Ruggles won honor in this
war.
* * * * *
In the Civil War, every man, "from the cradle to the grave," went to the
front voluntarily and cheerfully for the cause. They could be found in
such commands as the Thirtieth Virginia Regiment of Infantry, commanded by
Colonel Robert S. Chew, in which, among the many officers were: Hugh S.
Doggett, Robert T. Know, James S. Knox, Edgar Crutchfield, John K.
Anderson, Edward Hunter, Thomas F. Proctor and many others. Of these it is
sufficient to say that at all times they loyally did their duty, and this
may also be said of the Fredericksburg Artillery, sometimes called
Braxton's Battery, among the officers of which were Carter Braxton, Edward
Marye, John Pollock, John Eustace and others. Some of "our boys" united
themselves with the "Bloody Ninth" Virginia Cavalry, commanded by that
prince of calvarimen, Colonel Thomas W. Waller, of Stafford. Others of the
town, voluntarily enlisted in many other branches.
Charles T. Goolrick commanded a company of infantry which was organized
and equipped by his father, Peter Goolrick. Later his health gave way and
his brother, Robert Emmett Goolrick, a lieutenant in the company, took
command.
* * * * *
When the War with Spain was declared, the old Washington Guards, which has
done its duty at all times in the life of the town, came to the front.
Captain Maurice B. Rowe was its commander at that time; Revere, first
lieutenant, and Robert S. Knox, now of the U. S. Army, second lieutenant.
It is pertinent to state that in the War with Spain there was no draft,
and there were more volunteers than there was work to do. The company
marched away with great hopes, but spent almost the whole period of the
war at Camp Alger, near Washington.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _In the Great World War_]
When the Great World War came on, Fredericksburg sent two organized
companies to the front. The first, the Washington Guards, under Captain
Gunyon Harrison, and the second, the Coast Artillery Company, under
Captain Johnson. No names can be recorded, for after the companies left,
the draft men went in large bodies, and many won promotion and
distinguished service medals.
On July 4, 1918, the town gave to the World War soldiers a sincere and
royal "welcome home," in which the people testified to their gratitude to
them. In the war, our boys had added luster to the name of the town, and
splendid credit to themselves. The joy of the occasion and the pleasure of
it were marred by the fact that so many had died in France.
_Heroes of Early Days_
_The Old Town gives the first Commander, first Admiral, and Great
Citizens_
[Sidenote: _Washington's Boyhood Home_]
Fredericksburg claims George Washington, who although born in Westmoreland
County, Virginia, February 22, 1732, spent most of his boyhood on the
"Ferry Farm," the home of his father, Augustine Washington, situated on a
hill directly opposite the wharf which juts out from the Fredericksburg
side of the river. Here it is that Parson Weems alleged he threw a stone
across the river.
He was educated in Fredericksburg and Falmouth, a village of gray mists
and traditions, which lords it over Fredericksburg in the matter of
quaintness and antiquity, but obligingly joins its fortunes to those of
the town by a long and picturesque bridge.
His tutor in Falmouth was a "Master Hobbie," and while this domine was
"strapping the unthinking end of boys," George was evading punishment by
being studious and obedient. He also attended the school of Mr. Marye, at
St. George's Church. It was in this church that the Washingtons
worshipped.
Shy in boyhood and eclectic in the matter of associates, he had the genius
for real friendships.
The cherry tree which proclaimed him a disciple of truth has still a few
flourishing descendants on the old farm, and often one sees a tourist
cherishing a twig as a precious souvenir of the ground hallowed by the
tread of America's most famous son. It was on this farm that George was
badly hurt while riding (without permission) his father's chestnut colt.
We take Washington's career almost for granted, as we watch the stars
without marveling at the forces that drive them on, but when we do stop
to think, we are sure to wonder at the substantial greatness, the
harnessed strength of will, the sagacity and perception, which made him
the man he was.
He left school at sixteen, after having mastered geometry and
trigonometry, and having learned to use logarithms.
He became a surveyor. His brother, Lawrence, who at that time owned Mt.
Vernon, recognized this; in fact, got him, in 1740, to survey those wild
lands in the valley of the Alleghany belonging to Lord Fairfax.
He was given a commission as public surveyor after this. It is hard to
realize that he was only sixteen! We will not attempt to dwell upon his
life in detail. We know that at nineteen he was given a military district,
with the rank of major, in order to meet the dangers of Indian
depredations and French encroachments. His salary was only 150 pounds a
year.
On November 4, 1752, he was made a Mason in Fredericksburg Lodge, No. 4.
The Bible used in these interesting ceremonies, is still in possession of
the lodge, and is in a fine state of preservation. Washington continued a
member of this lodge until he died, and Lafayette was an honorary member.
At twenty-one, as a man of "discretion, accustomed to travel, and familiar
with the manners of the Indians," he was sent by Governor Dinwiddie on a
delicate mission which involved encroachments by the French on property
claimed by the English. During all these years he came at close intervals
to visit his mother, now living in her own house in Fredericksburg, which
was still his home.
After his distinguished campaign against the French army under M. De
Jumonville in the region of Ohio, where he exposed himself with the most
reckless bravery, he came to Mt. Vernon which he inherited from his
brother, Augustus, married Martha Custis, a young widow with two children
and large landed estates, and became a member of the House of Burgesses,
punctually attending all the sessions.
Indeed, one finds oneself eagerly looking for an occasional lapse in this
epic of punctuality. It would humanize him. Anyway, one is glad to see
that he was a patron of the arts and the theatre, and his industry in
keeping day-books, letter-books, contracts and deeds is somewhat offset by
the fact that he played the flute.
He seldom spoke in the House of Burgesses, but his opinion was eagerly
sought and followed. We will pass over the time when Dunmore prorogued the
"House," and of the events which ended in Washington's being made
Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army.
We are, perhaps, more interested in another visit to Fredericksburg to see
his mother, after he had resigned his commission. From town and country,
his friends gathered to give him welcome and do him honor. The military
turned out, civic societies paraded, and cannon boomed.
[Sidenote: _When "George" got Arrested_]
In between his career as statesmen and as soldier, we strain our eyes for
a thread of color, and we discover that he was once brought before a
justice of the peace and fined for trading horses on Sunday. And again,
that he was summoned before the grand jury and "George William Fairfax,
George Washington, George Mason," and half dozen others were indicted for
"not reporting their wheeled vehicles, according to law."
It is worth noting, too, that while her son, George, was leading the
American army, Mary, his mother, was a partisan of the King; a tory most
openly. "I am sure I shall hear some day," She told some one, calmly, in
her garden, "that they have hung George."
Nevertheless, his first two messages, after he crossed the Delaware and
won signal victories, were to Congress and his mother. And after the
hard-riding courier had handed her the note, and the gathering people had
waited until she laid down her trowel, and wiped the garden earth from her
hands, she turned to them and said: "Well, George has crossed the Delaware
and defeated the King's troops at Trenton."
[Sidenote: _Washington Advises Lovers_]
The stern fact of the Revolution, which cast upon George Washington
immortal fame and which was followed by his election to the Presidency of
the United States, is softened somewhat by a letter on love written to his
daughter, Nellie Custis. A few excerpts are as follows:
"When the fire is beginning to kindle, and the heart growing warm,
propound these questions to it. Who is this invader? Is he a man of
character; a man of sense? For be assured, a sensible woman can never be
happy with a fool. Is his fortune sufficient to maintain me in the manner
I have been accustomed to live? And is he one to whom my friends can have
no reasonable objection?"
And again, "It would be no great departure from the truth to say that it
rarely happens otherwise than that a thorough paced coquette dies in
celibacy, as a punishment for her attempts to mislead others by
encouraging looks, words and actions, given for no other purpose than to
draw men on to make overtures that they may be rejected."
The letter ends with a blessing bestowed on the young lady to whom is
given such sensible advice. That this letter is characterized by an
admirable poise, cannot be denied.
George Washington died at Mt. Vernon, December 4, 1799. He upheld the
organization of the American state during the first eight years of its
existence, amid the storms of interstate controversy, and gave it time to
consolidate.
No other American but himself could have done this--for of all the
American leaders he was the only one whom men felt differed from
themselves. The rest were soldiers, civilians, Federalists or Democrats,
but he--was Washington.
[Sidenote: _Evidence of Citizenship_]
Almost immediately after appearing before the public session of Congress,
at which he resigned his commission as commander-in-chief of the
Continental armies, an act of which Thackeray speaks as sheathing his
sword after "a life of spotless honor, a purity unreproached, a courage
indomitable and a consummate victory," Washington came to Fredericksburg
to visit his mother. He was the great hero of the age, the uncrowned King
of America and from all over the section crowds flocked to do him honor.
The occasion was of such importance that the city did not trust the words
of welcome to a single individual, but called a meeting of the City
Council at which a short address was adopted and presented to Washington
upon his arrival by William McWilliams, then mayor.
While beautifully worded to show the appreciation of his services and
respect for his character and courage, the address of welcome contains
nothing of historical significance except the line "And it affords us
great joy to see you once more at a place which claims the honor of your
growing infancy, the seat of your amiable parent and worthy relatives,"
which establishes Washington's connection with Fredericksburg.
In reply, General Washington said:
Gentlemen:
With the greatest pleasure I receive in the character of a private
citizen the honor of your address. To a benevolent providence and the
fortitude of a brave and virtuous army, supported by the general
exertion of our common country, I stand indebted for the plaudits you
now bestow. The reflection, however, of having met the congratulating
smiles and approbation of my fellow citizens for the part I have acted
in the cause of Liberty and Independence cannot fail of adding
pleasure to the other sweets of domestic life; and my sense of them is
heightened by their coming from the respectable inhabitants of the
place of my growing infancy and the honorable mention which is made of
my revered mother, by whose maternal hand, (early deprived of a
father) I was led to manhood. For the expression of personal affection
and attachment, and for your kind wishes for my future welfare, I
offer grateful thanks and my sincere prayers for the happiness and
prosperity of the corporate town of Fredericksburg.
Signed: GEORGE WASHINGTON.
This address is recorded in the books of the town council and is signed in
a handwriting that looks like that of Washington.
As it is known that Washington lived at Fredericksburg from the time he
was about six years of age until early manhood, the expression "growing
infancy" is unfortunate, but later, when Mayor Robert Lewis, a nephew of
Washington, delivered the welcome address to General Lafayette when he
visited Fredericksburg in 1824 the real case was made more plain when he
said:
"The presence of the friend of Washington excites the tenderest
emotions and associations among a people whose town enjoys the
distinguished honor of having been the residence of the Father of his
Country during the days of his childhood and youth," and in reply
General Lafayette said:
"At this place, Sir, which calls to our recollections several among
the most honored names of the Revolutionary War, I did, many years
ago, salute the first residence of our paternal chief, receiving the
blessings of his venerated mother and of his dear sister, your own
respected mother." Later the same day, at a banquet in the evening,
given in his honor, Lafayette offered the following sentiment, "The
City of Fredericksburg--first residence of Washington--may she more
and more attain all the prosperity which independence, republicanism
and industry cannot fail to secure."