"'Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels.
By blood or ink."--_Don Juan._
During the time I had been operating against the outposts of the Union
army in Northern Virginia I kept up a regular correspondence with
Stuart by means of couriers, and reported to him the result of every
action. The base from where I operated was on its flank, and so I
compelled it to present a double front. The prisoners taken were
sometimes released on their paroles, but generally sent out under
charge of a guard to the provost marshal at Culpepper Court House. The
necessity of making the details for guard duty seriously diminished my
effective strength. It would take nearly a week for them to go over
and return, and I was often compelled to wait on that account before
undertaking an expedition. The men, too, who would join me to go on
a raid just to get a horse would generally quit as soon as it was
over to return to their own regiments. When an enterprise had been
accomplished, I was often left as forlorn as Montrose after fighting
and winning a battle with the undisciplined Highland clans--they had
all scattered and gone home with their plunder. I would have to give
notice of my place and time of meeting several days in advance, in
order to make sure of a sufficient number answering the call to effect
any good work. The longer I remained in the country, successful raids
became more difficult, as the enemy was all the time on the lookout,
and kept every point closely guarded. I had promised Stuart, as an
inducement to let me have some men, either to compel the enemy to
contract their lines in Fairfax County or to reinforce them heavily.
Having no fixed lines to guard or defined territory to hold, it was
always my policy to elude the enemy when they came in search of me,
and carry the war into their own camps.
This was the best way to keep them at home. To have fought my own
command daily, on equal terms and in open combats against the thousands
that could have been brought against it by the North, would soon have
resulted in its entire annihilation. I endeavored to compensate for my
limited resources by stratagems, surprises, and night attacks, in which
the advantage was generally on my side, notwithstanding the superior
numbers we assailed. For this reason, the complaint has often been made
against me that I would not fight fair. So an old Austrian general
complained that Bonaparte violated all military maxims and traditions
by flying about from post to post in Italy, breaking up his cantonments
and fighting battles in the winter time. The accusations that have been
made against my mode of warfare are about as reasonable. In one sense
the charge that I did not fight fair is true. I fought for success and
not for display. There was no man in the Confederate army who had less
of the spirit of knight-errantry in him, or took a more practical view
of war than I did. The combat between Richard and Saladin by the
Diamond of the Desert is a beautiful picture for the imagination to
dwell on, but it isn't war, and was no model for me. The poets have
invested the deeds of the Templars with the colors of romance; but if
they were half as generous as they were said to have been, it was
because their swords, and not their hearts, were dedicated to a cause.
I never admired and did not imitate the example of the commander who
declined the advantage of the first fire. But, while I conducted war on
the theory that the end of it is to secure peace by the destruction of
the resources of the enemy, with as small a loss as possible to my own
side, there is no authenticated act of mine which is not perfectly in
accordance with approved military usage. Grant, Sheridan, and Stonewall
Jackson had about the same ideas that I had on the subject of war. I
will further add that I was directly under the orders of Stuart up to
the time of his death, in May, 1864, and after that time, of Gen.
Robert E. Lee, until the end of the war. With both of these two great
Christian soldiers I had the most confidential relations. My military
conduct received from them not only approbation, but many encomiums. In
a letter received from Stuart about this, he said, "I heartily wish you
great and increasing success in the glorious career on which you have
entered."
In September, 1864, I visited Gen. Lee at his headquarters, near
Petersburg. I had been badly wounded a week or so before by a bullet,
which I still carry in me. When he saw me hobbling up to him on my
crutches, he came to meet me, and said, as he extended his hand,
"Colonel, I have never had but one fault to find with you--you are
always getting wounded." I mention this circumstance to show that all
I did had the sanction of the commander of the army of Northern Virginia,
of which my own command--the Forty-third Battalion of Virginia
Cavalry--was a part. I was independent simply in the sense that both
Gen. Lee and Gen. Stuart had such confidence in me that they never
undertook to trammel me with orders, but gave me full discretion to act
as I chose. After the death of Stuart, Gen. Lee frequently wrote to me,
although we were separated by a distance of over a hundred miles. All
of his letters are in his own handwriting. What were called my
depredations had caused another brigade of cavalry to be sent into
Fairfax to protect Washington. The frequent incursions we had made down
there created great alarm and an apprehension that they might be
extended across the Potomac. The deliberations of the Senate were
frequently disturbed by the cry that the Gauls were at the gate. One
day I rode down on a scout in sight of the dome of the Capitol, when a
wagon came along, going to Washington, which was driven by the wife of
a Union man who had left his home in Virginia and taken refuge there. I
stopped it, and, after some conversation with the driver, told her who
I was. With a pair of scissors she had I cut off a lock of my hair and
sent it to Mr. Lincoln, with a message that I was coming to get one of
his soon. A few days after this, I saw in the _Star_ that it had
been delivered to him, and that the President enjoyed the joke.
After returning from my last expedition to Herndon Station, I had sent
John Underwood down to search along the lines for a weak point where I
might make a successful attack. This had now become very difficult to
do. There had been so many real and false alarms that the pickets were
always on the watch, and slept with their eyes open. The videttes were
stationed so close together that it was impossible to pass them without
being discovered; and a snowbird could not fly by without being fired
at. They had so strengthened their lines that, where formerly there had
been not over a dozen men, there were now a hundred. If there was a
hole anywhere, I knew that John Underwood would find it. I had about
that time received another recruit, who became famous in the annals of
my command. His home was in Loudoun, and his name was William Hibbs. He
was always called the "Major," although he never held a commission. He
was a blacksmith by trade, over fifty years old, and had already fully
discharged the duty he owed to the Southern Confederacy by sending his
two sons into the army. But for my appearance in the vicinity, he would
probably have lived and died unheard.
The fame of the exploits of my men, and the rich prizes they won,
aroused his martial ambition; and he determined to quit the forge and
become a warrior bold. The country soon echoed the notes of his fame,
as the anvil had once rung with the strokes of his hammer. Around the
triumvirate--Dick Moran, John Underwood, and Major Hibbs--recruits
now gathered as iron filings cluster around a magnet. They were the
germs from which my command grew and spread like a banyan tree. Beattie,
who was always my faithful Achates, had been captured, but was soon
afterward exchanged. Underwood, on his return from his scout, reported
a body of about 100 cavalry at Chantilly, which was in supporting
distance of several other bodies of about equal numbers. An attack
on the post there would be extremely hazardous, on account of the
proximity of the others. The chance of success was a poor one; but,
as about fifty men had assembled to go with me, I did not like to
disappoint them. Each man wanted a horse, as well as a leader to show
him how to get one. They were all willing to risk a good deal, and so
was I. We started off for Chantilly, down the Little River Turnpike, as
the mud prevented our travelling any other route. The advantage of
attacking at Chantilly was not only that we had a good road to travel
on, but I knew it was the very last place they expected I would attack.
They did not look for my approach in broad daylight along the pike, but
thought I would come by some crooked path after dark through the pines.
I had never asked a commission of the Confederate government, but the
warfare I had been conducting had attracted the attention of Gen.
Robert E. Lee, who not only complimented me in general orders published
to the army, but at his request the President of the Confederate States
sent me a commission as captain, with authority to organize a company
of cavalry. This was succeeded, in the course of two or three weeks,
with a commission of major. Before the close of the war I became a full
colonel, which was the highest rank I got. My first commission was
accompanied by the following letter:--
HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
March 23, 1863.
CAPT. J. S. MOSBY, _through Major-General Stuart_.
CAPTAIN:--You will perceive from the copy of the order herewith
inclosed that the President has appointed you captain of partisan
rangers. The general commanding directs me to say that it is
desired that you proceed at once to organize your company, with
the understanding that it is to be placed on a footing with all
the troops of the line, and to be mustered unconditionally in the
Confederate service for and during the war. Though you are to be
its captain, the men will have the privilege of electing the
lieutenants so soon as its members reach the legal standard. You
will report your progress from time to time, and when the
requisite number of men are enrolled, an officer will be
designated to muster the company into the service.
I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
W. W. TAYLOR, _A.A.G._
The partisan ranger law was an act of the Confederate Congress
authorizing the President to issue commissions to officers to organize
partisan corps. They stood on the same footing with other cavalry
organizations in respect to rank and pay, but, in addition, were given
the benefit of the law of maritime prize. There was really no novelty
in applying this principle to land forces. England has always done so
in her Majesty's East Indian service, and the spoils of Waterloo were
divided among the captors, of which Wellington took his share. The
booty of Delhi was the subject of litigation in the English Court of
Chancery, and Havelock, Campbell and Outram returned home from the East
loaded with barbaric spoils. As there is a good deal of human nature in
people, and as Major Dalgetty is still the type of a class, it will be
seen how the peculiar privileges given to my men served to whet their
zeal. I have often heard them disputing over the division of the horses
before they were captured, and it was no uncommon thing for a man to
remind me just as he was about going into a fight that he did not get a
horse from the last one. On the Chantilly raid I was accompanied by
Captain Hoskins, an English officer, who had just reported to me with a
letter from Stuart. He had been a captain in the English army and had
won the Crimean medal. After the conclusion of peace he had returned
home, but disliking the monotonous life of the barracks, had sold his
commission and joined Garibaldi in his Sicilian expedition. He was a
thorough soldier of fortune, devoted to the profession of arms, and
loved the excitement of danger and the joy of battle. He had been
attracted to our shores by the great American war, which offered a
field for the display of his courage and the gratification of his
military tastes. He was a noble gentleman and a splendid soldier, but
his career with me was short. A few weeks after that he fell fighting
by my side.
I mounted Hoskins and his companion, Captain Kennon, on captured
horses, and they went to try their luck with me. The post at Chantilly
was only two miles from the camp of a division of cavalry, and flanked
by strong supporting parties on each side. When I got within two or
three miles of it, I turned obliquely off to the right, in order to
penetrate, if possible, between them and Centreville, and gain their
rear. But they were looking out for me, and I found there was no chance
for a surprise. I despaired almost of doing anything; but as I did not
want to go back without trying to do something, I ordered a few men to
chase in the pickets, in hopes that this would draw their main body out
for some distance. They did so, and several were killed and captured.
From a high position I saw the reserve mount, form, and move up the
pike. I regained the pike also, so as not to be cut off. I got ready to
charge as soon as they were near, although I did not have half their
number, when I discovered another large body of cavalry, that had heard
the firing, coming rapidly from the direction of Fryingpan to reinforce
them. These were more than I had bargained to fight in the open, so I
ordered a retreat at a trot up the turnpike. I was certain that they
would pursue rapidly, thinking I was running away, and, getting strung
out along the pike, would lose their advantage in numbers, and give me
a chance to turn and strike back. My calculation was right. I kept my
men well closed up, with two some distance behind, to give me notice
when they got near. I had just passed over a hill, and was descending
on the other side, when one of my men dashed up and said the enemy was
right upon me. I looked back, but they were not in sight. I could
distinctly hear their loud cheers and the hoofstrokes of their horses
on the hard pike. I had either to suffer a stampede or make a fight.
The cavalry officer is like the woman who deliberates--he's lost. If I
had gone a step further my retreat would have degenerated into a rout.
My horses were jaded by a long day's march, while the enemies' were
fresh. I promptly ordered the men to halt, right about wheel, and draw
sabres. It was all done in the twinkling of an eye. Fortunately, just
at the place where I halted was an abattis, formed of fallen trees,
which had been made by the army the year before. The men formed behind
these, as I knew that when they darted out it would create the
impression on my pursuers that I had drawn them into an ambuscade. As
they stood there, calmly waiting for me to give the word for the onset,
A horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm.
I had no faith in the sabre as a weapon. I only made the men draw their
sabres to prevent them from wasting their fire before they got to
closer quarters. I knew that when they got among them the pistol would
be used. My success had been so uninterrupted that the men thought that
victory was chained to my standard. Men who go into a fight under the
influence of such feelings are next to invincible, and are generally
victors before it begins. We had hardly got into position before the
head of the pursuing column appeared over the hill, less than 100 yards
off. They had expected to see our backs, and not our faces. It was a
rule from which, during the war, I never departed, not to stand still
and receive a charge, but always to act on the offensive. This was the
maxim of Frederick the Great, and the key to the wonderful successes he
won with his cavalry. At the order to charge, my men dashed forward
with a yell that startled and stunned those who were foremost in
pursuit. I saw them halt, and I knew then that they had lost heart and
were beaten. Before they could wheel, my men were among them. Those who
were coming up behind them, seeing those in front turn their backs, did
the same thing. They had no idea they were running away from the same
number of men they had been chasing. My men had returned their sabres
to their scabbards, and the death-dealing revolver was now doing its
work.
The Union cavalry had assumed, as I thought they would, that my retreat
had only been feigned to draw them into a trap. They could not
understand why I ran away just to run back again. They had no time to
ascertain our numbers or to recover from the shock of their surprise in
finding us drawn up to receive them. I never witnessed a more complete
rout, or one with less cause for it. The chase continued two or three
miles. It was almost dark when we stopped. I remember that in the first
set of fours that led the charge were three young men, James W. Poster,
Thomas W. Richards, and William L. Hunter, to whom I gave commissions
for their gallant conduct. They all have since won honorable positions
in civil life. We left the killed and wounded on the field, brought off
thirty-six prisoners and about fifty horses. By strategy and hard
fighting, four times our numbers had been defeated. The only casualty
in my command happened to Major Hibbs, who had his boot-heel shot off.
He had been one of the foremost leaders in the charge, and like Byron's
corsair, everywhere in the thickest of the fight "shone his mailed
breast and flashed his sabre's ray." When the "Major" rode up to me,
after the fight was over, he was almost a maniac, he was so wild with
delight. And when, in the presence of all the men, I praised his valor,
he could no longer contain himself; he laughed and wept by turns. All
that he could say in reply was: "Well, Captain, I knew the work had to
be done, and that was the way to do it." One thing is certain, the
Major got a good horse as a reward. The regiment we had fought happened
to be the very one to which Ames had belonged, and from which he had
deserted a few weeks before to join me. He had gone through their ranks
like an avenging angel, shooting right and left. He took a malicious
pleasure in introducing some of his old comrades to me. I could not
help feeling a pang of regret that such courage as his should be
stained with dishonor. It was Hoskins's first fight with me. He said it
was better than a fox chase. I recall his image now as it rises above
the flood of years, as he hewed his path through the broken ranks. It
was a point of honor or of military etiquette with him to use his sword
and not his pistol. In this way he lost his life. I reported to Stuart
the result of the engagement and received from him the following letter
in reply:
HEADQUARTERS CAVALRY DIVISION,
ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
March 27, 1863.
CAPTAIN:--Your telegram announcing your brilliant achievement near
Chantilly was duly received and forwarded to General Lee. He
exclaimed upon reading it:
"Hurrah for Mosby! I wish I had a hundred like him."
Heartily wishing you continued success, I remain your Obedient
servant,
J. E. B. STUART,
_Major-General Commanding_.
CAPTAIN J. S. MOSBY, _Commanding, etc._
FAIRFAX COURT-HOUSE, March 23, 1863.
SIR:--At 5 P.M., our picket in front of Chantilly was attacked.
The videttes were on the alert, and gave the alarm. The reserve of
about 70 men were immediately under arms, and charged the enemy,
who fled for 2 miles along the Little River turnpike. Between
Saunder's toll-gate and Cub Run there is a strip of woods about a
half a mile wide through which the road runs. Within the woods,
and about a quarter of a mile apart, are two barricades of fallen
trees; our troops pursued the enemy between these barricades.
Behind the latter, some of the enemy were concealed. The head of
the column was here stopped by a fire of carbines and pistols, and
also by a fire upon the flank from the woods. The column broke,
and was pursued by the enemy 1-1/2 miles. It was then rallied by
the exertions of Majors Bacon and White. Captains McGuinn and
Hasbrouck, when they heard of the alarm, proceeded on a gallop
from Fryingpan, and, joining Major White's command, pursued the
enemy for 8 miles. Night coming on, and the enemy being more
numerous than we were, and our horses exhausted, the column halted
and returned to Chantilly. The line of pickets is now established.
Our loss is, killed, Corporal Gilles, Company H. Fifth New York
Cavalry; James Doyle, Company C; John Harris, Company L. Mortally
wounded, Sergeant Leahey, Company C. Lieutenant Merritt taken
prisoner.
ROBT. JOHNSTONE,
_Lieutenant Colonel Commanding._
COL. R. BUTLER PRICE,
_Commanding Cav. Brig._
[_Indorsement._]
HEADQUARTERS ARMY NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
March 26, 1863.
GENERAL:--On the 25th [23] instant Capt. Mosby attacked and routed
a body of the enemy's cavalry on the Little River turnpike, near
Chantilly. He reports 10 killed and wounded--and a lieutenant and
30 [35] men, with their horses, arms, and equipments captured. He
sustained no loss ... etc.
R. E. LEE, _General_.
FAUQUIER COUNTY, VA., April 7, 1863.
GENERAL:--I have the honor to submit the following report of the
operations of the cavalry under my command since rendering my last
report. On Monday, March 16, I proceeded down the Little River
pike to capture two outposts of the enemy, each numbering 60 or 70
men. I did not succeed in gaining their rear as I expected, and
only captured 4 or 5 videttes. It being late in the evening, and
our horses very much jaded, I concluded to return. I had gone not
over a mile back when we saw a large body of the enemy's cavalry,
which, according to their own reports, numbered 200 men, rapidly
pursuing. I feigned a retreat, desiring to draw them off from
their camps. At a point where the enemy had blockaded the road
with fallen trees, I formed to receive them, for with my knowledge
of the Yankee character I knew they would imagine themselves
fallen into an ambuscade. When they had come within 100 yards of
me I ordered a charge, to which my men responded with a vim that
swept everything before them. The Yankees broke when we got in 75
yards of them; and it was more of a chase than a fight for 4 or 5
miles. We killed 5, wounded a considerable number, and brought off
1 lieutenant and 35 men prisoners. I did not have over 50 men with
me, some having gone back with the prisoners and others having
gone on ahead, when we started back, not anticipating any pursuit.
On Monday, March 31, I went down in the direction of Dranesville
to capture several strong outposts in the vicinity of that place.
On reaching there I discovered that they had fallen back about 10
miles down the Alexandria pike. I then returned 6 or 8 miles back
and stopped about 10 o'clock at night at a point about 2 miles
from the pike. Early the next morning one of my men, whom I had
left over on the Leesburg pike, came dashing in, and announced the
rapid approach of the enemy. But he had scarcely given us the
information when the enemy appeared a few hundred yards off,
coming up at a gallop. At this time our horses were eating; all
had their bridles off, and some even their saddles--they were all
tied in a barnyard.
Throwing open the gate I ordered a counter-charge, to which my men
promptly responded. The Yankees never dreaming of our assuming the
offensive, terrified at the yells of the men as they dashed on,
they broke and fled in every direction. We drove them in confusion
seven or eight miles down the pike. We left on the field nine of
them killed--among them a captain and lieutenant--and about fifteen
too badly wounded for removal; in this lot two lieutenants. We
brought off 82 prisoners, many of these also wounded. I have since
visited the scene of the fight. The enemy sent up a flag of truce
for their dead and wounded, but many of them being severely
wounded, they established a hospital on the ground. The surgeon who
attended them informs me that a great number of those who escaped
were wounded. The force of the enemy was six companies of the First
Vermont Cavalry, one of their oldest and best regiments, and the
prisoners inform me that they had every available man with them.
There were certainly not less than 200; the prisoners say it was
more than that. I had about 65 men in this affair. In addition to
the prisoners, we took all their arms and about 100 horses and
equipments. Privates Hart, Hurst, Keyes and Davis were wounded. The
latter has since died. Both on this and several other occasions
they have borne themselves with conspicuous gallantry. In addition
to those mentioned above I desire to place on record the names of
several others, whose promptitude and boldness in closing in with
the enemy contributed much to the success of the fight. They are
Lieutenant Chapman (late of Dixie Artillery), Sergt. Hunter and
Privates Wellington and Harry Hatcher, Turner, Wild, Sowers, Ames
and Sibert. There are many others, I have no doubt, deserving of
honorable mention, but the above are only those who came under my
personal observation. I confess that on this occasion I had not
taken sufficient precautions to guard against surprise. It was 10
[o'clock] at night when I reached the place where the fight came
off on the succeeding day. We had ridden through snow and mud
upwards of 40 miles, and both men and horses were nearly broken
down; besides, the enemy had fallen back a distance of about 18
miles....
JOHN S. MOSBY,
_Captain Commanding_.
MAJ.-GEN. J. E. B. STUART.
[_Indorsements._]
HEADQUARTERS CAVALRY DIVISION,
April 11, 1863.
Respectfully forwarded, as in perfect keeping with his other
brilliant achievements. Recommended for promotion.
J. E. B. STUART,
_Major-General._
HEADQUARTERS ARMY NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
April 13, 1863.
Respectfully forwarded for the information of the Department.
Telegraphic reports already sent in.
R. E. LEE, _General_.
APRIL 22, 1863.
Adjutant-General:--Nominate as major if it has not been previously
done.
J. A. S. [SEDDON], _Secretary_.