by Burke Davis
The riders in Stuart's front were from the New Kent County company of the 3rd Virginia, natives who knew every trail. Private Richard Frayser had led them from Old Church to Tunstall's, and when Stuart turned south toward the Chickahominy, he called on a new guide, Lieutenant Jonas Christian, who had a scheme for escape.
Christian's home, Sycamore Springs, lay along the Chickahominy below Long Bridge—a crossing sure to be under guard. A private ford at Sycamore would give the column a hidden passage. Christian assured Stuart that this ford had always been passable in the memory of the oldest inhabitants. Not even the recent rains should make it difficult. The column rode in that direction, the river now seven miles away.
As Stuart left Talleysville, Federal troops arrived at Tunstall's, only four miles behind to the north.
Esten Cooke left a vivid sketch of the column plodding toward the river whose crossing meant safety:
"The highway lay before us, white in the unclouded splendor of the moon. The critical moment was yet to come. The exhaustion of the march now began to tell on the men. Whole companies went to sleep in the saddle, and Stuart himself was no exception. He had thrown one knee over the pommel of his saddle, folded his arms, dropped the bridle, and—chin on breast, his plumed hat drooping over his forehead—was sound asleep. His sure-footed horse moved steadily, but the form of the General tottered from side to side, and for miles I held him erect by the arm."
The column thus moved on during the remainder of the night, the wary advance guard encountering no enemies and giving no alarm. At the first streak of dawn the Chickahominy was in sight.
Stuart spurred out of the highway, along the farm lane leading to the river.
Rooney Lee was among the first riders Christian led to the stream. The men gazed in dismay at the dark waters surging high over the ford.
Rooney Lee wasted no time. The commanding general's son stripped off most of his clothes and rode his horse into the coffee-colored river, followed by a few of his men. They struggled against the current until they floundered among the roots on the far bank, and it was clear that the whole column could not cross in this way. Lee and his party recrossed the river. Stuart watched him reflectively. Cooke noted that the only sign of Stuart's concern was "a peculiar fashion of twisting his beard." Otherwise, he looked "cool and dangerous."
Cooke helped Lee to emerge from the stream.
"What do you think of the situation, Colonel?" Cooke asked.
The huge boy replied, "Well, Captain, I think we are caught."
The men on the bank of the stream evidently agreed with Rooney. Cooke thought that in any other but this desperate moment the troopers would be laughable:
"Some sprawled flat, half-asleep, still holding their bridles; others were asleep in the saddles, their heads hanging almost to the pommels; some gnawed on captured crackers or figs, or smoked, and looked about, yawning."
Cooke tried to cheer them up. "It's all right," he said.
The men stared at him "as sane men regard a lunatic."
But Stuart soon put them to work. The first attempt was to fell trees across the river, but as the great trunks splashed into the water they were swept downstream, and this effort was abandoned.
Stuart called for Corporal Turner Doswell and sent him to General Lee with a dispatch. He wanted the army to make a diversion for him on the Charles City Road to draw the attention of the Federals. He described his plight at the swollen river, but assured the commander he would get the column across somehow.
Stuart gave up the crossing at Christian's ford and took the column downstream to the ruins of Forge Bridge, whose abutments were still standing. Jeb put out a rear guard, set up Breathed's cannon, and put Henry Hagan and Redmond Burke to rebuilding the bridge. With a small squad the resourceful scouts worked a miracle.
While the men worked, Mosby watched Stuart, who was "lying down on the bank of the stream, in the gayest humor I ever saw, laughing at the prank he had played on McClellan."
Troopers ripped boards and timbers from an abandoned barn, and Burke soon had a rickety foot bridge to the island in midstream, stout enough to pass men who walked, holding the bridles of their horses as they swam on the downriver side of the bridge. About half the column went over in this way.
Within three hours Burke and Hagan had made the bridge sounder, using the main timbers of the old barn, which were long enough to span the crossing by a matter of inches. Now artillery and wagons bowled over, and safety lay ahead.
At the moment of completing the bridge, Stuart was helping to fit the planks in place, singing as he worked. The last man to cross was Fitz Lee, who followed the rear guard.
On the far side of the island in the river the way was barred by fords little more than mudholes, and the column splashed quickly through them. In front bluecoat prisoners rode some of the hundreds of captured mules; many rode two to a mule, and frequently fell into the shallow swamp. Guards laughed at the cursing prisoners, and Cooke recorded their protests: "How many damned Chicken Hominies are there in this infernal country?"
When Fitz Lee had herded over the last of his men, smoke began to curl from the quickly raised bridge. Fire soon ate through the dry old timbers and dropped them into the stream.
Through the smoke the rear guard saw the first of the Federals to reach the riverside: A few cavalrymen in blue on weary horses. A shot was fired. Fitz Lee took his men out of sight. The hopelessness of pursuit would creep into the report of Colonel Richard Rush of the Sixth Pennsylvania Cavalry—the proud Philadelphia Lancers:
His major, Robert Morris, Rush said, had led a bold chase, commanding the pursuit to within four miles of the Rebels at their bridge. But when Rush took over, for some unexplained reason, it required three hours to move horsemen four miles to the river. In the words of Rush's report:
"At 2:45 I reached the Sycamore farm, and seeing smoke over the woods ahead, sent forward Major Morris, with eight carbineers. He soon returned, reporting that a mile beyond the woods he had come up to the bridge over the Chickahominy, which was broken and burning, watched by five men on the other side. He fired one shot at them, when they mounted and ran. I scouted the woods for an hour all about the Sycamore farm and mill, but getting no more trace of the rebels, and feeling satisfied that all had crossed the river, I returned with my command to Tunstall's."10
There was no thought of chasing the Rebels over the Chickahominy. There was only praise for Major Morris, who had followed the trail of the retreating Rebels in the morning.
A couple of hours earlier General McClellan had sent a telegram to Washington:
A rebel force of cavalry and artillery, variously estimated at from [,000 to 5,000, came around our right flank last evening, attacked and drove in a picket guard of two squadrons of cavalry stationed at Old Church; thence they proceeded to a landing three miles above White House, where they burned two forage schooners and destroyed some wagons. They then struck the railroad at Tunstall's Station, fired into a train, killing some five or six. Here they met a force of infantry which I sent down to meet them, when they ran off. I have several cavalry detachments out after them, and hope to punish them. No damage has been done to the railroad.
Stuart gave the column no rest until it was some miles from the river, for Richmond was still thirty-five miles away, and there was danger of attack from the flank of McClellan's army.
Jeb stopped for a few minutes to drink coffee in the home of Thomas Christian, not far from the river. When the vanguard reached Charles City Court House, near the banks of the James, Stuart called a halt. He and his staff went to the hospitable mansion of Judge Isaac Christian in the village, and his men went on to Buck-land, the home of Colonel J. M. Wilcox. After thirty-six hours in the saddle, the troopers needed no invitation. They fell asleep in lawns and fields and did not stir until after sunset, when Stuart prepared to leave for Richmond to report to General Lee. Fitz Lee was left in command with orders to move the column at eleven P.M.
Mosby thought t
heir chief "gay as a lark," despite his two days and nights without sleep.
Esten Cooke thought the general would take a longer rest, but Jeb understood the army's need for information on the Federal flank, and was impatient to be off.
Cooke had an interesting conversation with Jeb.
"I believe General Cooke really tried to catch us there across the river," Stuart said.
"I can't believe it," Cooke said.
"Yes, the General is a man who'll do his duty up to the handle."
"Granted," Cooke replied, "but he was a poor cavalry officer if he couldn't find the tracks of 1,200 cavalry in a big road, and catch them ten miles off in twelve hours."
Esten Cooke thought Stuart too devoted to his father-in-law to condemn him.11
"I'm going to Richmond," Stuart said. "Would you like to ride with me?"
But Esten's horse was worn out, and he had to stay behind. Jeb trotted off with a small party of couriers as escort; his guide was Captain Richard Frayser. He rode the thirty miles before daylight, across country partly covered by Federal patrols. There was a halt at Rowland's Mill, six miles from Charles City Court House, where Jeb stopped for another cup of strong coffee. When they reached Richmond, Jeb turned toward Lee's headquarters. He sent Frayser to tell Governor John Letcher the news, and to advise Flora that he was safely home.
Frayser was at first rebuffed by a sleepy servant at the Executive Mansion, but insisted until he was led to Letcher's bedroom, where he found the governor and Dr. John Mayo, an old friend, in a huge bed. The youth told stories of the raid for the old men, as they laughed over Stuart's exploits. The governor promised sabers for Stuart and Frayser, and soon delivered them; Jeb's was a handsome ceremonial sword fit to commemorate the famed ride.
The Richmond Dispatch praised the men of the raid and published an article on its worth:
"What, then, was the result?" asked we of a wearied, dusty trooper watering his jaded and faithful animal by a roadside spring. "The result?" answered he, proudly but much exhausted. "The result? We have been in the saddle from Thursday morning until Saturday noon, never breaking rein or breakfast. We have whipped the enemy wherever he dared to appear—never opposing more than equal forces. We have burned two hundred wagons ... sunk or fired three large transports, captured three hundred horses and mules, brought in 170 prisoners, four officers and many Negroes, killed and wounded scores of the enemy, and had one man killed, poor Captain Latane. This is the result, and three million dollars cannot cover the Federal loss in goods alone."
Stuart's report glowed with colorful phrases, and, at times the rhetoric was almost epic, as in his praise of the work of his lieutenants at the crossing of the river:
Their brave men behaved with coolness and intrepidity in danger, unswerving resolution before difficulties, and stood unappalled before the rushing torrent of the Chickahominy, with the probability of an enemy at their heels armed with the fury of a tigress; robbed of her whelps.
It had more of the sound of an imperial order to troops than a report on a reconnaissance in force—but Stuart's congratulatory order to the 1,200 troopers was in the same vein. He also gave them a new battle cry: "Avenge Latane!" He seemed to resent bitterly even this single casualty as the price of a breath-taking raid.
Stuart singled out many for praise, not forgetting his scouts, surgeon, Cooke, von Borcke, Mosby, Hagan and many others. He urged promotions for his men: Fitz Lee and Rooney Lee to be brigadiers; Lieutenant Colonel Martin to be full colonel; for von Borcke, "this deserving man who has cast his lot with us in this trying hour," he asked the highest possible rank which could be conferred. He also spoke for Burke, Farley and Robins.
General Lee's order in reply reflected the pride of the command in Stuart's feat:
The general commanding announces with great satisfaction to the army the brilliant exploit of Brig. Gen. J. E. B. Stuart ... in passing around the rear of the whole Federal army, taking a number of prisoners, and destroying and capturing stores to a large amount. . . . The expedition recrossed the Chickahominy almost in the presence of the enemy with the same coolness and address that marked every step of its progress....
The general commanding takes great pleasure in expressing his admiration of the courage and skill so conspicuously exhibited throughout by the general and the officers and men under his command.
But it was, after all, the quiet talk in the privacy of headquarters that presaged great days for the army. Robert Lee could look at the maps of the Chickahominy country and trace the dominating ridge north of that river, certain that the way was open for attack. Now he could move with hope of driving the enemy with his inferior force. Stuart reported that he was ready to lead Jackson into position.
Orders went out to Stonewall, in the Valley. He was to screen his rear and pull the victorious little Foot Cavalry into the Richmond theater. Haste and secrecy were vital.
As the army planned its first great offensive, critics already wondered what Stuart's gaudy raid had accomplished. Perhaps it served only to warn the enemy. But daily scouts showed no change
in the Federal line, and McClellan lay still, as if unaware that Lee knew most of his dispositions. The raid gave a great boost to the morale of Richmond and the Confederacy at large. It left Stuart in gay spirits, at any rate.
Esten Cooke said to him, "That was a tight place at the river, General. If the enemy had come, would you have surrendered?"
"No, there was one course left—to die game."
And he joked with Longstreet: "I left one general behind me."
"Who's that, Jeb?"
"General Consternation."
CHAPTER 8
A Week of Miracles
LATE June, 1862, at cavalry headquarters was an idyll. Flora was visiting Stuart and had with her four-year-old young Flora and Jimmy, who was two. Stuart rolled on the floors at play with the children and sat in the farmhouse parlor to hear his wife sing.
Red and white roses bloomed in sheets on the walls of the house, and von Borcke was almost overcome by odors of the roses, wild honeysuckle and magnolias.
On June twentieth, "with a significant smile," Stuart sent von Borcke to the War Department in nearby Richmond. The German returned with a commission as captain of cavalry.
Captain Blackford returned to Stuart, too, this time as an engineer officer.
There were signs of a mysterious move by the army. Brigades were forever shifting position along the swamp roads.
Marching orders came to Stuart's headquarters late at night, June twenty-fifth. The regiments were in the saddle by midnight, but there was no moon, and the men could not see in the blackness; they did not move until dawn.
Stuart gave Cooke a dispatch. "This must be in the hands of our special messenger by daylight," Jeb said.
Cooke glanced at the sealed envelope. It read: "Gen. T. J. Jackson, Somewhere."
The war had abruptly changed. Cooke realized that a major attack on McClellan was under way, and that Jackson, who only yesterday was reported facing the enemy in the Shenandoah Valley, had by some miracle leaped across Virginia.
Cooke rode off on his errand.
The column moved north at dawn and by afternoon had halted around the village of Ashland, sixteen miles above Richmond. The corps had grown. Stuart had 2,000 riders: Fitz Lee and his ist Virginia, Rooney Lee with the 9th Virginia, Wickham's 4th Virginia under a captain, Colonel Will Martin's Jeff Davis Legion, the Hampton Legion, Pelham's Artillery, and a new regiment, Colonel T. R. R. Cobb's Georgia Legion. He left behind four regiments under Colonel Tom Rosser to guard the main army.
In the late afternoon, near Ashland, the troopers discovered the startling secret of General Robert Lee's strategy. The road was suddenly filled with dusty infantrymen. Someone caught sight of the leading officer—Jackson. Men cheered.
Captain Blackford was excited by the arrival of these confident troops from the West, and by the travel-worn Jackson, whom the cavalrymen had last seen in action almost a year bef
ore, at Manassas. Jackson stopped to shake hands and talk with Stuart. Jackson's infantry cheered as it passed them. "They knew well enough what was brewing," Blackford thought, as they saw Stuart and Jackson in earnest conversation.
Blackford got a vivid impression of Stonewall: "Then thirty-eight years of age, a little over medium height, of compact muscular build ... careless about his dress ... and though clean ... dressed in a threadbare, faded semi-military suit, with a disreputable old Virginia Military Institute cap drawn down over his eyes."
There was a striking contrast as Jackson sat with Stuart's young officers, elegant in Confederate gray, with polished boots and black plumes in their hats.
The troops went into camp. Jackson ordered his division to move against the enemy at two thirty A.M. in an effort to make up lost time.
Stuart was to guide Jackson to McClellan's unprotected flank which he had discovered the previous week. Stonewall was the northernmost wing of the attack; below him, and on roughly parallel routes, the divisions under A. P. Hill, D. H. Hill and Longstreet would push against the Federals. General Lee was staking everything on a sweep from his Richmond trenches against the enemy flank. Much depended on Jackson, whose troops were the army's most experienced. And Stonewall was already late, having several times lost his way in the unfamiliar swamp country.
Jackson was expected to pry loose McClellan's right somewhere near Beaver Dam Creek and force the Federals to evacuate the village of Mechanicsville. That done, the Hills and Longstreet would advance their big forces and Lee might destroy his adversary.1
Jackson's troops crossed the Virginia Central Railroad before daylight and pushed eastward. Von Borcke was near Stuart, and wrote: "With the exception of encounters with small patrols, we saw little of the enemy until five o'clock in the afternoon, when Jackson's vanguard attacked them, and was soon engaged in a sharp skirmish."
