AFTER MANASSAS AT CENTERVILLE
Commissioned as captain and acting adjutant-general--Pay of
officers--Assigned to Longstreet's brigade--The Oglethorpe Infantry,
of Savannah--Enemy preparing for winter quarters--Beauregard
takes command in West--Confederate flag--Presentation of
battle-flags--Starting a theatre--Georgia Hussars--A sleigh ride.
Something must now be said as to what happened to me several weeks
after the Manassas battle. It will be remembered I was a volunteer aid
with the rank by courtesy, but no pay. When I saw my messmates taking
theirs in very comfortably, it occurred to me I should make another
effort for a commission, so I wrote my application to the Secretary of
War asking to be appointed a second lieutenant, C. S. A., and assigned
as might be thought proper. Blushing like a girl, I asked General
Longstreet if he could endorse it favorably. Glancing hastily at the
paper, he said, "Certainly," and then added carelessly, "but it isn't
necessary." The words made no impression at the time, but they came to
mind later.
After the battle we had not been idle; at least I was set to work.
There was no commissary to the brigade, and for a week or two I
did the duty after a fashion until an officer of that department
was assigned--Major Chichester. His papers, correspondence, and
duties seemed to fall on me, naturally, by his consent, and the
brigadier-general soon began to look to me for assistance.
This had been going on for some time until the official mail one fine
morning brought me a commission as captain in the Adjutant-General's
Department, with orders to report to Longstreet. Then his words leaped
to my memory. He had a right to nominate his own adjutant-general and
had applied for me while I was fishing around for a second lieutenancy.
I had no military training except some drill and tactics at school, but
it seemed he thought I took to the work handily. He instructed me to
relieve Armistead and take over all the duties of the office. I rose
with Longstreet to be major and lieutenant-colonel in that department,
and brigadier-general commanding in Hill's corps, and my affection for
him is unfailing. Such efficiency on the field as I may have displayed
came from association with him and the example of that undismayed
warrior. He was like a rock in steadiness when sometimes in battle the
world seemed flying to pieces.
Armistead left us, carrying our good wishes for his future.
I think the pay of a captain (mounted) was $140 per month and forage
for two horses; a major, $162 a month; a lieutenant-colonel, $187. All
general officers got $301 per month. A soldier said the $1 was for what
they did, the $300 just thrown in to please them. Johnny Reb must have
his little joke.
The first company to leave Savannah for Virginia was the Oglethorpe
Infantry, a fine body of eager young men commanded by Captain Bartow.
He was well known all through the State as an ardent Confederate, a
distinguished lawyer and orator. He took his young men to Joe Johnston
in the Valley, wildly enthusiastic; but Bartow could not long remain
their captain. His wide reputation quickly placed him colonel of the
Eighth Georgia Infantry, and with that historic regiment the company
fought at Manassas, and the entire war thereafter in Longstreet's
command. Bartow was commissioned a brigadier and served as such
at Manassas. On July 31st many anxious eyes were fixed on it in
Savannah. Then was its baptism of fire, and nobly did the young men
stand it. Many were the mourners at home for the killed and wounded
of these devoted youth. Their officers--West, Cooper, Butler--led
them handsomely; their colonel was lost to them and to the country.
Bartow was shot down at the head of the Eighth. "They have killed me,
boys, but never give up the fight," was his last gasp, and his soul,
with the gallant Bee's, sought its upward flight. The company became
famous. It left its dead and wounded on every battlefield from Manassas
to Appomattox, wherever Longstreet's corps was engaged. Revived
now and honored it is at its old home, one of the leading military
organizations of Georgia. Never do the men forget the memories of that
day of battle on its recurring anniversaries, or fail in pride of their
glorious predecessors.
As the winter approached, the enemy drew in their front and lined
the fortifications and defenses on the Potomac. McClellan evidently
determined not to attack and that the winter must pass idly on their
part. The _gaudium certaminis_ was no part of him. On ours Johnston
drew in his scattered forces, concentrating about Centerville, which
he fortified, and there they were, the two armies making faces at each
other, and the Northern papers telling wonders about us, all believed
by McClellan, whose imagination always doubled, trebled, quadrupled the
fighting strength of those desperate Rebels.
While at Centerville the army underwent its first reorganization.
Beauregard was sent West to important duty and J. E. Johnston assumed
command of the Eastern army, to be forever known and glorious as the
Army of Northern Virginia. It was then in four divisions, the second of
the three brigades under Major-General Longstreet (Second Virginia and
First South Carolina Brigade). First Division, also of three brigades,
under Major-General Holmes (down on lower Potomac), and the district of
the Valley, under Major-General T. J. Jackson (Stonewall), made up this
army, besides artillery and cavalry; the latter under Stuart. The first
flag of the Confederacy was the stars and bars, but it was found on the
battlefield dangerously similar to the Northern stars and stripes. The
battle-flag under which we fought to the finish was then substituted,
and it was while we were at Centerville that the military function of
presenting the new colors to the battalions was arranged.
The day for our division went off admirably. It was brilliant weather,
and all were in their best outfits, and on their best mounts. The
troops looked well as the colonels successively received their colors
to defend.
Arrangements had been made for a generous hospitality at our division
headquarters. We were occupying a dismantled old wooden farm-house
well situated in the shade of fine trees. There a sumptuous repast was
spread, and the principal officers of the divisions became our guests
after the flag ceremonies. These arrangements were made by Major John
W. Fairfax, whom Longstreet had had appointed a major and inspector on
his staff. Fairfax was a rich man, owning the beautiful broad estate of
President Monroe, Oak Hill, on the upper Potomac, in Loudoun County,
near Aldie, also a fine property on the lower Potomac.
Major Fairfax was then of middle age, tall, courtly and rather
impressive. He had attached himself at once to Longstreet, and took
charge of his mess and small wants, presented him with a superb mount,
and did the best he could with his new military duties. He lacked
nothing in courage; was brave and would go anywhere. But Fairfax had
two distinctions--he was the most pious of churchmen and was a born bon
vivant, knowing and liking good things. Whiskey later was hard to get,
yet he managed to have always a good supply on hand.
He is now a hale and hearty man, wonderfully well preserved.
It was Fairfax, as I said, that provided the feast, drawing the richest
materials from his beautiful broad pastures in Loudoun. Everything
was plentiful in that stage of the war and much liquor and wine were
consumed. Johnston, G. W. Smith, Van Dorn, Beauregard, and others of
high rank were present, and we had great merriment and singing.
Suddenly came a clash of steel in the crowded room. Longstreet, with
great quickness, had thrown a pair of swords out of the window. Dr.
Cullen and Captain Walton, both of his staff (too much wine taken),
had suddenly quarreled, and Walton had given the doctor a blow in the
face. Longstreet's quick movement disposed of the matter for the time,
but it could not so end. After the entertainment, and when done with
some hard racing and leaping by the wilder young mounted officers,
Colonel Ransome Calhoun of South Carolina called on Major Walton. It
was to demand a meeting in expiation of the blow. Walton referred
Calhoun to me, and our _pourparler_ opened most courteously. He was an
admirable gentleman, and but for his good sense and forbearance there
must have been an ugly meeting. My difficulties were increased by
Longstreet, who, suspecting something, ordered me to put a stop to the
whole affair, adding that I was chief of the staff and would be held
responsible were not a hostile meeting avoided. We managed to close the
thing by explanations from Cullen and regrets from Walton. Both men
seemed well satisfied. Colonel Calhoun, of whom I then formed a high
opinion, returned to duty at Charleston, and there incurred the enmity
of Colonel Rhett. After some time, and many efforts of friends to bring
about a better feeling, they met with pistols, and Calhoun was killed.
A high-minded, honorable gentleman! Walton was quite a friend of mine.
Walton was quite a friend of mine and fond of me. Gifted with uncommon
intellectual attainments, the favorite scholar of L. Q. C. Lamar at the
University of Mississippi, he was of the most uncertain, unexpected
temper and exactions; he could be dangerous at times, and only the
greatest firmness held him in check until the humor passed off and
then he was all lovely. When the war ended he returned to Mississippi,
quarreled with a man, and killed him. Moving to Alabama he found
himself in the thick of the yellow fever epidemic of 1878. Dropping all
personal interests he devoted himself wholly to the sick and dying,
until himself struck down by death. His memory is sweet in that part of
the State.
One day, as the winter came on, Longstreet sent for me. "The men will
want amusement and entertainment the long winter days," he said. "We
must get them up a theater and a good company. See to it at once and
lose no time. Issue such orders as may be necessary." That was all,
and quite easy for the General. Draw a theater and company, properties
and all out of one's pocket like a ripe apple! But it could be done
with the resources of a division of infantry at one's hand, and I set
about it at once. The colonels each received a note asking help and
details from the ranks of actors with some experience. They were sure
to be found there. But more than all, I wanted a manager, and he soon
came out of the First Virginia Infantry to take charge of the play. It
was Theodore Hamilton, an actor of some experience. I have met him in
several places acting since the peace, and he always comes to me as an
old friend, although he was not to tread the boards at the "Centerville
Theater."
"Now, Captain," he said, "for scenery and properties. You have the
building, I have the company; what about the rest?" It was easy;
painters were found in the ranks for scenery, and many of the officers
chipping in, we got together enough money to send Hamilton to Richmond
to get the costumes and properties. I don't think he made the most of
his time there, but he got something, and after many delays we began
to think we should see some acting after all. But alas! just then,
Johnston, discovering McClellan's movements to the Peninsula, broke
up his camp, his officers destroying needlessly an immense amount of
valuable supplies, and off we marched merrily to face our old friend,
the young Napoleon. Such was the beginning and the end of our first and
only attempt at theatricals.
It was while we were about Centerville that a great change came over
Longstreet. He was rather gay in disposition with his chums, fond of
a glass, and very skilful at poker. He, Van Dorn, and G. W. Smith
were accustomed to play almost every night with T. J. Rhett, General
Johnston's adjutant-general, and we sometimes heard of rather wild
scenes amid these old army chums--all from West Point, all having
served in Mexico and against the Indians. Longstreet's wife and
children were at Richmond. He was devoted to them. Suddenly scarlet
fever broke out and three of the children died within one week. He
was with them, and some weeks after resumed his command a changed
man. He had become very serious and reserved and a consistent member
of the Episcopal Church. His grief was very deep and he had all our
sympathies; later years lightened the memory of his sorrow and he
became rather more like his old cheerful self, but with no dissipation
of any kind.
Before parting with Centerville it should be said that my old troop,
the Georgia Hussars, had at last got their services accepted and were
brought to Richmond under my friend, Captain F. Waring, and mustered in
for the war. They were thrown into a regiment known as the Jeff Davis
Legion, commanded by Colonel Will T. Martin, which was to prove itself
a fine body of horse.
While in quarters this winter there were several light falls of snow, a
novelty to most of our Southern fellows. Not many of them were familiar
with such descents from the clouds. There came, however, a storm
anything but interesting. Snow was lying deep and camps were almost
hidden.
My staff comrade, Peyton Manning, and myself decided it was the time
for a sleigh ride of our own. No cutters were to be had, but we
improvised one. Securing a stout, well-made box of good size, a plank
seat in it for two made it the body of the fabric. Then the forests
yielded a couple of slim saplings, which, bent at the ends over the
fire, were not bad for runners. On these, braced and crossed, with
shafts attached, our box, well elevated, was securely fastened, and
there was our cutter. We settled that the team should be stylish and
made it "tandem," in good extemporized harness. My charger was put
in the shafts and Manning's in the lead, both high-spirited animals.
Each horse was mounted by a small negro, postilion-fashion, good
riders both, and supposed to add some safety as well as novelty to the
equipage.
Manning undertook to handle the long reins from the bits, and we
started, the observed of many curious, and amid the worst lot of evil
prophecies of what would befall us that it was ever my fate to hear.
The outfit took the road handsomely, cheered by the soldiers, our black
postilions grinning with delight.
All went well for a time and then the devil himself broke loose! The
spirit of the horses rising, especially that fiery brute of Manning's,
they were off entirely beyond control. Over the deep-snowed roads and
fields, across ditches and broken fences the gallant pair in mad race
took everything on a full run, their postilions now ashy hue with
terror and clinging like burs to the bounding animals. The finish came
quickly. There seemed to be a sudden great fall of stars from the
midday skies and Manning and I were hurled right and left into deep
snow drifts, everything in pieces, horses and little niggers quite
out of sight. Digging ourselves out we took a good look at each other
and some ugly words were said; but although scratched and bruised no
bones were broken, and we slowly trod our way back to camp, wiser if
not better men from our first and last sleigh ride in old Virginia. The
horses were brought back to quarters but never again were their black
postilions seen in those parts.