[Illustration]
RECOLLECTIONS OF A
CONFEDERATE STAFF OFFICER
[Illustration:
Very truly yrs
Gill Sorrell]
RECOLLECTIONS OF A CONFEDERATE STAFF OFFICER
BY
GEN. G. MOXLEY SORREL
_Lieutenant-Colonel and Chief of Staff, Longstreet's 1st
Army Corps_; _Brigadier-General commanding
Sorrel's Brigade, A. P. Hill's 3rd
Army Corps, Army of Northern
Virginia_
SECOND EDITION
[Illustration]
WITH INTRODUCTION BY
SENATOR JOHN W. DANIEL
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
440 FOURTH AVENUE YORK
1917
Copyright, 1905, by
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
_TO MY WIFE_
_This Volume is affectionately_
_DEDICATED_
_In illness and tedious convalescence it was she who suggested
these reminiscences of the past, as a solace,
giving me cheerful encouragement and material
assistance in their preparation, for which
my grateful thanks are ever hers._
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction 13
CHAPTER
I Battle of Manassas, July 21, 1861 23
II After Manassas at Centerville 35
III Reminiscences and Horses 45
IV Sketches 53
V Our National Hymn 61
VI The Peninsula and Battle of Williamsburg, May 5, 1862 65
VII Battle of Seven Pines, May 31, 1862 71
VIII Battles of the Chickahominy, June 26 to July 2, 1862 76
IX Rivalry and More Reminiscences 87
X Second Battle of Manassas, August 29 and 30, 1862 94
XI Battles of South Mountain (Boonsboro Gap) and
Sharpsburg (Antietam), September 14 and 17, 1862 103
XII Battle of Sharpsburg, Continued 110
XIII Battle of Sharpsburg, Concluded 115
XIV Our Personnel--Visitors 120
XV The Staff 124
XVI Events Preceding Fredericksburg 129
XVII Battle of Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862 136
XVIII After Fredericksburg--Reminiscences 143
XIX To South Virginia for Supplies 150
XX Preparing for Gettysburg 156
XXI Battle of Gettysburg, July 1, 2, 3, 1863 163
XXII Gettysburg Aftermath 173
XXIII In Virginia Again 179
XXIV Longstreet to Reinforce Bragg 184
XXV Battle of Chickamauga, September 20, 1863 188
XXVI Chattanooga--Incidents 195
XXVII The East Tennessee Campaign, November, 1863, to
April, 1864 204
XXVIII The East Tennessee Campaign, Continued 212
XXIX At Home in Savannah--Sketches 220
XXX Battle of the Wilderness, May 6, 1864 228
XXXI Coincidences--Longstreet's Successor 240
XXXII Battle of Spottsylvania C. H., May 10 and 12, and
Cold Harbor, June 3, 1864 244
XXXIII The siege of Petersburg June, 1864, to March, 1865 254
XXXIV Longstreet's Return--Farewell to Lee 265
Appendix 283
RECOLLECTIONS OF A CONFEDERATE STAFF OFFICER
INTRODUCTION
BY
JOHN W. DANIEL
_Formerly Major and Assistant Adjutant-General Early's Division, Second
Corps, A. N. V._
A few months ago I entered a room where a group of five or six
gentlemen were seated around a table in conversation. As I took my seat
to join them, one of the number, a distinguished Northern Senator, of
high cultivation and who is a great reader of history, made this remark
to his companions: "The Army of Northern Virginia was in my opinion the
strongest body of men of equal numbers that ever stood together upon
the earth." As an ex-Confederate soldier I could not feel otherwise
than pleased to hear such an observation from a gentleman of the North
who was a student of military history. As the conversation continued
there seemed to be a general concurrence in the opinion he stated, and
I doubt if any man of intelligence who would give sedate consideration
to the subject, would express a different sentiment.
The Army of the Potomac, the valiant and powerful antagonist of the
Army of Northern Virginia, was indeed of much larger numbers, and
better equipped and fed; but it would have nevertheless failed but
for its high quality of soldiership which are by none more respected
than by its former foes. Both armies were worthy of any steel that was
ever forged for the business of war, and when General Grant in his
"Memoirs" describes the meeting after the surrender of the officers of
both sides around the McLean House, he says that they seemed to "enjoy
the meeting as much as though they had been friends separated for a
long time while fighting battles under the same flag." He prophesied in
his last illness that "we are on the eve of a new era when there is to
be great harmony between the Federal and Confederate."
That era came to meridian when the Federal Government magnanimously
returned to the States of the South the captured battle-flags of their
regiments. The story of the war will be told no longer at soldiers'
camp-fires with the feelings of bygone years, or with even stifled
reproach, but solely with a design to cultivate friendship and to
unfold the truth as to one of the most stupendous conflicts of arms
that ever evoked the heroism of the human race.
"Recollections of a Confederate Staff Officer," by Brigadier-General
G. Moxley Sorrel, of the Army of Northern Virginia, is a valuable
contribution to this great history. Its author received his "baptism
of fire" in the First Battle of Manassas, July 21, 1861, while serving
on the staff of Brigadier-General James Longstreet as a volunteer aid,
with the complimentary rank of captain.
The forces under General Beauregard at Bull Run were known at that
time as "The Army of the Potomac." The name of the antagonist of the
Federal "Army of the Potomac" was soon changed to the "Army of Northern
Virginia"; and Longstreet, the senior brigadier, became major-general
and then lieutenant-general.
Sorrel followed the fortunes of his chief, serving as adjutant-general
of his brigade, division, and corps, with rank successively as captain,
major, and lieutenant-colonel, and distinguished himself many times by
his gallantry and efficiency. During the siege of Petersburg the tardy
promotion which he had long deserved and for which he had been time
and again recommended, came to him and he succeeded Brigadier-General
Girardey, a gallant soldier, who had been killed in battle, as
commander of a brigade in Mahone's division, A. P. Hill's Third Corps.
When promoted he showed the right spirit by making a faithful and
brave courier his aide-de-camp. As a general, as well as while on the
staff, Sorrel often had his "place near the flashing of the guns." At
Sharpsburg he leaped from his horse, with Fairfax, Goree, Manning, and
Walton, of Longstreet's staff, to serve as cannoneers at the guns of
the Washington Artillery, whose soldiers had been struck down. While he
was carrying a message to a brigade commander his horse was shot under
him, and still later on the same field a fragment of a shell struck
him senseless and he was for a while disabled. He passed through the
maelstrom of Gettysburg, here and there upon that field of blood; the
hind legs of his horse were swept away by a cannon ball, and at the
same time he and Latrobe, of Longstreet's staff, were carrying in their
arms saddles taken from horses slain under them.
At the Wilderness, May 6, 1864, he was at the side of his chief when
that officer was badly wounded, and when General Jenkins, of South
Carolina, and Captain Dobie of the staff were killed. He won his
general's wreath that day, although it was some time before it reached
him. At the crisis when Longstreet's corps was going to the rescue he
was entrusted with marshalling three brigades to flank the advancing
forces of General Hancock. Moving forward with the line of the Twelfth
Virginia Infantry, of Mahone's brigade, he endeavored to take its
colors as it advanced to the onset, but Ben May, the stout-hearted
standard-bearer, refused him that honor and himself carried them to
victory. When this battle was over General Lee saluted him as "General
Sorrel."
He was wounded in the leg while commanding his brigade on the right
of the Confederate line near Petersburg; and again he was shot in the
lungs at Hatcher's Run in January, 1865, the same action in which fell
the brave General John Pegram, then commanding Early's old division.
During the illness resulting from this wound, General Sorrel was cared
for by relatives in Roanoke County, Virginia, and having recovered
sufficiently returned to the field. He was in Lynchburg, Virginia, on
his way back to his command when the surrender at Appomattox ended the
career of the Army of Northern Virginia.
Scarcely any figure in that army was more familiar to its soldiers than
that of General Sorrel, and certainly none more so to the soldiers of
the First Corps. Tall, slender, and graceful, with a keen dark eye, a
trim military figure, and an engaging countenance, he was a dashing and
fearless rider, and he attracted attention in march and battle by his
constant devotion to his duties as adjutant-general, and became as well
known as any of the commanders.
General Sorrel has not attempted a military history. He has simply
related the things he saw and of which he was a part. He says of his
writings, "that they are rough jottings from memory without access to
any data or books of reference and with little attempt at sequence."
What his book will therefore lack in the precision and detail as
to military strategy or movement, will be compensated for by the
naturalness and freshness which are found in the free, picturesque, and
salient character of his work.
General Sorrel was of French descent on his father's side. His
grandfather, Antoine Sorrel Des Riviere, had been a colonel of
engineers in the French Army, and afterwards held estates in San
Domingo, from which he was driven by the insurrection of the negroes in
the early part of the nineteenth century. He then moved to Louisiana.
His father, Francis Sorrel, became a successful business man in
Savannah, Georgia, and his mother was a lady of Virginia. If he
inherited from one those distinctively American qualities which were so
attractive in his character, we can but fancy that he inherited in some
degree at least from his sire the delicate touch with the pen which is
so characteristic of the French. They have written more entertaining
memoirs than any other people, and this memoir of General Sorrel is
full of sketches, incidents, anecdotes, and of vivid portraitures and
scenes which remind the reader no little of the military literature of
the French.
No military writer has yet undertaken to produce a complete history
of either the Army of the Potomac or the Army of Northern Virginia.
Indeed, it has scarce been practicable to write such a history. The
rolls of the two armies have not yet been published, and while the War
Records have furnished a great body of most valuable matter and there
are many volumes of biography and autobiography which shed light on
campaigns and battles, the deposit of historical material will not be
finished before the whole generation who fought the war has passed from
earth. This volume will be useful to the historian in giving him an
insight to the very image and body of the times. It will carry him to
the general's headquarters and from there to the picket-line; from the
kitchen camp-fire and baking-oven to the hospital and ordnance wagon;
from the devices of the commissary and quarter-master to the trenches
in the battlefield; from the long march to the marshalled battle line;
from the anxieties of the rear-guard of the retreat to the stern array
of the charging columns. He will find some graphic accounts of leading
characters, such as Longstreet, Ewell, D. H. Hill, A. P. Hill, Jeb
Stuart, Early, Anderson, Mahone, Van Dorn, Polk, Bragg, and many others
who shone in the lists of the great tourney. The private soldier is
justly recognized, and appears in his true light all along the line, of
which he was the enduring figure. Lee, great and incomparable, shines
as he always does, in the endearing majesty of his matchless character
and genius.
General Sorrel's book is written in the temper and spirit which we
might expect of the accomplished and gallant soldier that he was. It is
without rancor, as he himself declares, and it is without disposition
unduly to exalt one personage or belittle another. It bespeaks the
catholic mind of an honest man. It tells things as he saw them, and he
was one who did his deed from the highest and purest motives.
The staff of the Army of Northern Virginia (of which G. M. Sorrel,
assistant adjutant-general, was a bright, particular star) was for
the most part an improvised affair, as for the most part was the
whole Confederate Army, and indeed the Federal Army was almost as
much so. It showed, as did the line of civilians turned quickly into
soldiers, the aptitude of our American people for military service and
accomplishment. Even the younger officers of military training were
needed in armies of raw and inexperienced recruits for many commands.
The staff had to be made up for the most part of alert young men, some
of them yet in their teens, and it is remarkable that they were so
readily found and so well performed their duties.
At twenty-two years of age Sorrel was a clerk in a Savannah bank, and
a private in a volunteer company of Savannah. He slipped away from his
business to see the bombardment of Fort Sumter in April, 1861, and a
little later we then find him at his father's country estate some ten
miles from Manassas Junction, looking forward to a second lieutenancy
as the fulfilment of his then ambition.
An introduction from Col. Thomas Jordan, the adjutant-general of
Beauregard, to General Longstreet fixed his career with that officer,
and he was by his side transacting his business and carrying his
orders from the start to well-nigh the finish. On the Peninsula, and
in the trenches at Yorktown, at Williamsburg and Seven Pines, in the
Seven Days Battle around Richmond, at Second Manassas and Sharpsburg,
at Suffolk in southeast Virginia, at Gettysburg, Chickamauga, at
Knoxville, at the Wilderness, and in many combats along the Richmond
and Petersburg lines, General Sorrel shared in many adventures and was
a part of many matters of great pith and moment. Like Sandy Pendleton,
the adjutant of Jackson, of Ewell, and of Early as commanders of the
Second Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia, and like W. H. Palmer,
of Richmond, the adjutant of A. P. Hill, he had no special preparation
for his military career; and all three of these valuable officers, like
many others who might be mentioned, are simply illustrations of the
fine inherent qualities that pertain to the scions of a free people.
I have not written this introduction in the hope that I could add
anything to the attractiveness of General Sorrel's recollections,
nor have I undertaken to edit them or to pass upon the opinions
which he expressed concerning men or things or battles. My part is
simply that of a friend who belonged also to the staff of the Army
of Northern Virginia, and of one who, from opportunities to observe
General Sorrel on many occasions and to know him personally, learned to
honor and admire him. I deem it fitting, however, to say that in some
respects I differ from General Sorrel's opinions and would vary some
of his observations respecting Ewell, Stuart, Early, and a few other
conspicuous leaders.
"Fortunate indeed is the man who like General Sorrel is entitled to
remind those around his death-bed that he did his best to do his duty
and to serve his country with heart and soul. The records of his life
tell us how well, how faithfully he did serve her, and if anything can
console you and others for his loss it must be that fact."
These are the words of Field Marshal Wolseley, written to Mrs. Sorrel,
the widow of the General upon his death at "The Barrens" near Roanoke,
Va., the home of his brother, Dr. Francis Sorrel.
They are worthy of repetition in connection with General Sorrel's
name by reason of their just estimate of his worth as a patriot and a
soldier, and of the high spirit which they breathe; and that they are
uttered by a soldier and a man of such character and ability as Field
Marshal Wolseley impresses all the more their inherent merit.
They better introduce the volume of General Sorrel's composition than
anything I can say, for they reveal in short compass the nature of the
man, the principle that actuated his life, and the estimate formed of
him by an eminent soldier who had no partial relation to him or his
deeds.
JOHN W. DANIEL.
WASHINGTON, D. C., May 1, 1905.
RECOLLECTIONS OF A CONFEDERATE STAFF OFFICER
CHAPTER I
BATTLE OF MANASSAS, JULY 21, 1861
Forbears and Home at Savannah--Fort Sumter attacked--Hostilities
begin--Leave for Virginia--Visit to my father--Beauregard's
camp at Manassas--Colonel Jordan--Introduced to General
Longstreet--Sketch--General Stuart--General Johnston--The
battle--Enemy defeated--Pursuit stopped--March to
Centerville--Stonewall Jackson--Prince Napoleon--the review--Colonel
Skinner--His Exploits.
My forbears were French on my father's side. His father, Antoine
Sorrel des Riviere, Colonel du Genie (Engineer Corps) in the French
Army, was on his estates in the island of San Domingo when the bloody
insurrection of the blacks broke out at the opening of the century.
He had the tragic horror of witnessing the massacre of many relatives
and friends. His property was destroyed, and his life barely saved by
concealment and flight to Cuba, thence to Louisiana, where a refuge was
found among friendly kindred. There he died at a great age.
His son Francis, my father, was saved from the rage of bloodthirsty
blacks by the faithful devotion of the household slaves, and some
years later succeeded in reaching Maryland, where he was educated. He
married in Virginia, engaging in business in the early part of the
century at Savannah, Georgia.
My maternal great-grandfather, Alvin Moxley, was from Westmoreland
County, Virginia. He was one of the signers of what is known as the
Richard Henry Lee Bill of Rights, 1765, the first recorded protest in
America against taxation without representation, and which twelve years
later led directly to the Revolutionary War. The original document is
now preserved and framed in the Virginia Historical Society at Richmond.
Death bereft my father of his wife in time's flight. An eminent
merchant, successful and prominent, we find him in the Civil War in
health and ease, happy in the love of many children and the esteem
of hosts of friends. As a child he had seen some horrors of the
insurrection, but never could he be persuaded to speak of them, so deep
and painful were even their distant memories. At the culmination of the
political troubles in 1861 I was a young chap just twenty-two, at home
in my native city, Savannah, peacefully employed with the juniors of
the banking force of the Central Railroad.
When Sumter was bombarded at Charleston in April, I slipped away for a
day or two and witnessed the scenes of wild excitement that attended
its fall. It spread everywhere, and like all the youth of the country
I was quickly drawn in. For a year or two before, like many of my
associates in Savannah, I was a member, a private, of the Georgia
Hussars, a fine volunteer cavalry company, with a creditable history of
almost a century.
On the secession of Georgia, now soon following, Fort Pulaski was
seized and the various military commands did their tour of duty there,
the Hussars among them.
This was my first service. The company also immediately offered itself
to the Confederate Government just organized at Montgomery, Alabama,
and was eager to get into the field; but delay ensued, although it was
mustered in for thirty days' service on the coast of Skidaway Island,
near Savannah. There I served again as private until mustered out. A
Confederate army was being collected in Virginia under Beauregard, the
capital having been settled in Richmond. Becoming impatient of inaction
at Savannah, our company apparently not being wanted, I decided to go
to Virginia and seek employment there.
Richmond looked like a camp when I arrived, in July. It was full of
officers in their smart uniforms, all busy with their duties, and the
greatest efforts were made for equipping and arming the men now pouring
in from the South. They were posted first in camps of instruction,
where, by means of younger officers, they attained some drill before
being sent to the army. How happy should I be could I get a commission
as second lieutenant and plunge into work with the men.
My brother, Dr. Francis Sorrel, had just arrived from California and
was gazetted to a high position in the Surgeon-General's Department.
He aided me all possible, but I got nothing, and so about July 15, my
cash running down, betook myself to my father's pretty country place
at Greenwich, about ten miles north of Warrenton, Fauquier County.
It was also about ten miles from Manassas Junction, the headquarters
of General Beauregard, now in command of the army that was to fight
McDowell and defend Richmond. My father said it was unfortunate
I had not come a day or two earlier, because he had driven his
daughters across the country for a visit to the camps, where they met
many friends. Among these was Col. Thomas Jordon, the all-powerful
adjutant-general of Beauregard's army, then termed the Army of the
Potomac. Many years before, Jordon, when a lieutenant, had been
stationed in Savannah, and enjoyed my father's generous hospitality.
This was my opportunity.
I asked for just a few lines of introduction to Jordon, and a horse out
of the stables. I knew them well and could get a good mount for the
field. My dear father willingly acceded, and parted from me cheerfully
but with moist eyes. On the way to the camp I came up with Meredith, a
relation (not long ago United States Congressman from Virginia), and
soon I found Colonel Jordon. He had been doing an enormous amount of
work and was almost exhausted.
Jordon was considered a brilliant staff officer, and justly so; but
there appeared something lacking in his make-up as a whole that
disappointed his friends. At all events, his subsequent military career
failed and he sank out of prominent notice. He was kind to me, read my
note, said nothing could be done then; but--"Come again to-morrow."
This turned me loose in the camp. The soldiers from the Valley under J.
E. Johnston and J. E. B. Stuart began to make an appearance in small
numbers, principally cavalry. We slept that night at Meredith's, about
three miles from camp. Jordon, the next day, was still unable to do
anything for me, and I began to be doubtful of success, but could at
least go as a private with a good horse under me.
Again at Meredith's and awakened very early by cannon, we were up in a
moment and galloping to Beauregard's.
There I was made happy on the 21st day of July. The adjutant-general
handed me three lines of introduction to Longstreet, commanding a
brigade at Blackburn's Ford several miles distant. With a good-by to
Meredith I was swiftly off. Approaching the ford, shot and shell were
flying close overhead; and feeling a bit nervous, my first time under
fire, I began to inquire what folly had brought me into such disturbing
scenes.
The feeling passed, however, and Longstreet, who had called on
Beauregard for staff officers, received me cordially.
His acting adjutant-general, Lieutenant Frank Armistead, a West Point
graduate and of some service in the United States Army, was ordered
to announce me to the brigade as captain and volunteer aide-de-camp.
Brig.-Gen. James Longstreet was then a most striking figure, about
forty years of age, a soldier every inch, and very handsome, tall
and well proportioned, strong and active, a superb horseman and with
an unsurpassed soldierly bearing, his features and expression fairly
matched; eyes, glint steel blue, deep and piercing; a full brown beard,
head well shaped and poised. The worst feature was the mouth, rather
coarse; it was partly hidden, however, by his ample beard. His career
had not been without mark. Graduating from West Point in 1842, he was
assigned to the Fourth Infantry, the regiment which Grant joined one
year later. The Mexican War coming on, Longstreet had opportunity of
service and distinction which he did not fail to make the most of;
wounds awaited him, and brevets to console such hurts. After peace with
Mexico he was in the Indian troubles, had a long tour of duty in Texas,
and eventually received the appointment of major and paymaster. It was
from that rank and duty that he went at the call of his State to arm
and battle for the Confederacy. History will tell how well he did it.
He brought to our army a high reputation as an energetic, capable, and
experienced soldier. At West Point he was fast friends with Grant, and
was his best man at the latter's marriage. Grant, true as steel to his
friends, never in all his subsequent marvelous career failed Longstreet
when there was need.
Such was the brigadier-general commanding four regiments of Virginia
infantry, the First, Eleventh, Seventeenth, and Twenty-fourth, and a
section of the Washington Artillery of New Orleans. The Eighteenth
Virginia Infantry was afterwards added.
Three days previously, Longstreet, just joined his command, had
opportunity of showing his mettle. His position at the ford was
fiercely assailed by the Federals, and his coolness, good disposition,
and contagious courage brought about their defeat, and was the
beginning of that devotion which his men gave him up to Appomattox.
His staff officers at the time were Lieutenant Armistead, Lieutenant
Manning of Mississippi, ordnance officer; Captain Walton of
Mississippi, aid; Captain Goree of Texas, aid; and some quartermasters
and commissaries detailed from the regiments.
The army had scarcely made an attempt yet at good organization.
At Manassas Junction, while waiting on Jordon, I first saw Gen. Joseph
E. Johnston and J. E. B. Stuart. The first was full bearded, dusty,
and worn from long marching; a high-bred, stern-looking soldier of
faultless seat and bearing in the saddle. I had the good fortune to
know him well and most happily in the coming years. Once long after
the close of the war I was chatting with him in his best humor. We were
speaking of his varied military life and the several wounds he had
received in Mexico, with Indians, and in the recent Confederate War. He
had many, and as he sat in face of me the General's splendid, dome-like
head was something to admire. Quite bald, it was scarred in several
places, and looking at the mark of an ugly gash I inquired, "And,
General, where did you get that one?" The smile that irradiated that
strong, expressive face was brilliant and contagious as he answered, "I
got _that_, sir, out of a cherry tree!" and then followed a laughing
account of what a fall he had, and how he had been chased by the farmer.
Stuart, red bearded, ruddy faced, alert and ever active, was dirtier
even than Johnston; but there stood the tireless cavalryman, the future
right arm of the great Lee, the eyes and ears to his army. Alas! that
his pure soldier's life, crowned with such splendid fame, should have
ended so needlessly, late in the war, by a stray shot.
I should say here there is to be no attempt at describing battles--the
military works are full of them. I shall content myself with bare
outlines, and some observations of men and things, adding such
incidents and personal happenings as may, I hope, prove of interest.
Longstreet's brigade had practically no part in the battle of
Manassas. It sustained some desultory artillery fire, and there was a
demonstration against it, but it amounted to nothing. Blackburn's Ford
was on the right, where the attack was expected, but McDowell found
his way to Beauregard's left and nearly smashed him until Johnston and
Jackson "ventre a terre" and turned the doubtful tide of battle into a
ruinous rout of the enemy.
It was late in the afternoon, but we soon heard of it at our ford, and
Longstreet, waiting for no man, was immediately in pursuit. He was
halted first by Bonham, who ranked him, to permit his brigade to take
the lead. Then resuming the march hot-footed, after the flying foe, we
were again stopped, this time by Major Whiting, of Johnston's staff,
with orders from Beauregard to attempt no pursuit. Painful was this
order. We knew the Federals were in full flight, and we had only to
show ourselves to bag the whole outfit.
We dismounted among some young pines to await further orders, and I saw
Longstreet in a fine rage. He dashed his hat furiously on the ground,
stamped, and bitter words escaped him. However, the night was on us,
some food was picked up by hook or crook, and we slept well under the
stars. The soundness of the order stopping pursuit has been viewed in
many different ways, and I shall not add my own opinion, except to
suggest that while in the condition of our army it was practically
impossible to seize Washington, it was yet the proper thing to keep on
the heels of those frightened soldiers until they reached the Potomac.
Many thousand prisoners, and much loot and stores, ammunition, guns,
colors, and other material would have fallen into our hands.
Next day the field and highways showed the terrible battle that had
raged, and the ground was covered with the debris of the panic-stricken
army. Our brigade moved leisurely on, and halted for some time at
Centerville. The army was concentrated in the neighborhood, and about
Fairfax Court House and Fairfax Station, our headquarters being for
some time at the former place. About this time Longstreet was joined
by two noted scouts and rangers whom he had known in Texas--the
celebrated Frank Terry and Tom Lubbock, powerful men, both of them,
in the prime of life. Scouting and fighting had been their part from
boyhood. They were of much use to Longstreet. From Fairfax Court House
and vicinity we sent regular details, called the advanced forces, to
occupy Mason's and Munson's hills, only a few miles from Washington.
At night the dome of the Capitol could be seen from those positions,
lighted up with great splendor. There was sharp sniping in front of the
hills, and Terry and Lubbock generally bagged their man apiece, each
day, besides bringing in valuable information. Both men soon returned
to Texas and organized a regiment of cavalry in the Confederate service
under Terry. It was said to be the finest body of horsemen and fighters
imaginable, and subsequently did great service in the West. Terry fell
among them at their head.
It was while we lay in the neighborhood that I saw Prince Jerome
Napoleon, "Plon Plon." It seems he was making a short visit of
curiosity (he was no friend of the South), and was at Beauregard's
headquarters some distance off.
The General sent notice to Longstreet that he was coming with his staff
and guest to call on him, and suggested that he try to get up something
in the way of a small review of our best-clad soldiers. Longstreet
started me off at once to borrow a regiment from Stonewall Jackson and
one from D. R. Jones (South Carolina), both commands being near by. The
First Virginia Infantry, the Richmond regiment, was the contingent from
our own brigade. I soon found myself saluting General T. J. Jackson,
the first time I had seen the soldier. He was seated in a low,
comfortable chair in front of his quarters, quite shabbily dressed, but
neat and clean--little military ornament about him. It was the eye full
of fire and the firm, set face that drew attention. His hand was held
upright; a ball at the recent battle had cut off a piece of his finger,
and that position eased it. He was all courtesy to the young subaltern
awaiting his answer.
"Say to General Longstreet, with my compliments, that he shall have my
best-looking regiment, and that immediately. The colonel will report at
the point you may designate." This done, Jones gave up his best, some
good-looking Carolinians, with palmetto badges, and then spurring back
to meet Beauregard and party to guide them to the reviewing ground, he
presented me to His Highness the Prince, who, well mounted, was riding
by his side. I could not keep my eyes off the Frenchman's face. It was
almost a replica of the great Napoleon, his uncle, but unpleasantly so;
skin pasty and flabby, bags under the eyes, and beefy all over. A large
man, tall, but without dignity of movement or attitude. The review was
soon over. The three picked regiments, with a good band, looked well,
although the Richmond boys were a bit out at the seat; but, as old
Skinner, the Colonel, said to the Frenchman as they marched by, "The
enemy won't see that part of them."
The spot was on a nice piece of turf near an old wooden church, and
we had gathered a few refreshments for the occasion, but the Prince
would have nothing. Coldly and impassively he raised his hat in parting
salute, entered the carriage that was awaiting him, and, escorted by a
lieutenant of cavalry and a half dozen men under a flag of truce, we
willingly sent him back to his friends, the enemy. On returning to
France he published what ill he could find to say of us. "Plon Plon's"
abuse was not to hurt or disturb honest men with brave hearts.
A word about Old Skinner, Colonel of the First Virginia. He was an old
Maryland fox hunter, handsome and distinguished looking, and had lived
long in France, almost domiciled there. He was connected with many of
the best people of Maryland and Virginia, and had hosts of friends.
Fond of good liquor, it was almost every night that he was a bit full,
and then there were wild scenes with his well-known hunter, who could
do anything or go anywhere with the Colonel on him. Skinner was a fine
swordsman, and had brought from France a long, straight, well-balanced
double-edged cuirassier's saber. In his cups the fine old Colonel would
swear he should die happy could he have one chance to use that steel on
the enemy.
The chance came and Skinner was ready for it. At the second battle
of Manassas a battery of six guns was mauling some of our infantry
horribly. His regiment, the gallant First Virginia, was thrown at it,
"Old Fred," as the men affectionately called him, leading well in
advance. Out flashed the French saber, and he was among the gunners in
a trice. His execution was wonderful; sabering right and left he seemed
invulnerable, but down he came at last, just as his men swept over the
guns in a fine charge. It was the end of the Colonel's soldiering, but
although frightfully wounded in the chest and body he survived for many
years. So lively was the old beau sabreur, that only a few years ago he
came to New York to fight John Wise because of some fancied slight to a
member of his family--Wise, too, his lifelong friend! As there could
be no fighting, Wise had to do some nice diplomatic work to soothe the
irate Colonel and smooth over the affair.