Jeb Stuart, The Last Cavalier

by Burke Davis

  Longstreet's big command, which would march west toward Hagerstown.

  A story illustrative of Lee's calm was soon being enjoyed by officers of the army. General Walker had gone to Lee's tent for orders, and stared in astonishment as he was told of the daring maneuver.

  "You doubtless regard it as hazardous to leave McClellan on my line of communication and to march into the heart of the enemy's country?" Lee said.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Are you acquainted with General McClellan? He is an able general, but a very cautious one. His enemies among his own people think him too much so. His army is in a very demoralized and chaotic condition, and will not be ready for offensive operations—or he will not think it so—for three or four weeks. Before that time I hope to be on the Susquehanna."5

  The infantry marched out of Frederick on September tenth toward its various objectives, and in the rear the cavalry fought delaying actions.

  Urbana fell to the enemy the next day, September eleventh, in a cold drizzling rain. In the late morning Fitz Lee's riders passed through on the retreat; Wade Hampton followed, and only Munford's little squadrons remained behind, some five miles away.

  Not until the last moment would Stuart leave the company of the charming "New York Rebel." He was at the Urbana house of her kinsmen as his column trotted by and gunfire drew nearer. Von Borcke left a protest: "I was kept riding to and fro directing the retreat in the name of the General who, with the other members of the staff, to my intense disgust, still lingered on the veranda with the ladies."

  Jeb left with the last of them, finally, at two P.M., closely pursued by bluecoats; artillery shells were exploding around the house when he left it. Women and children cried, waving handkerchiefs, and the head of the household was so stirred that he rode off with Stuart's men, to join Confederate ranks. The enemy seized Urbana.

  Stuart was still in a gay mood. He spent the night at the farmhouse of an old Irishman near Frederick, on the banks of the Monocacy River, joining in a dance of his officers and the "spirited Irish girls" of the house. He wrote Flora:

  The ladies of Maryland make a great fuss over your husband—loading me with bouquets—begging for autographs, buttons, etc. What shall I do?6

  The town had a gloomy look, his officers thought, though not all the people were downcast. Von Borcke saw an "impudent" Union man wave a United States flag from the roof of his house, and was so incensed that he ordered the civilian to take down his colors or be shot. The flag disappeared.

  In the dusk of September twelfth Stuart's rear guard fell back from the Monocacy westward through Frederick in the track of General Lee's main body of infantry. Von Borcke escaped a final scattering of buckshot from the house of the defiant waver of the Union flag. There was one more welcome missile: A pretty girl tossed Captain Blackford a plum pudding as he passed her door. The staff ate it for supper that night, a few miles west in a farmhouse near Middletown.

  One of the first Federal officers into Frederick was General Jacob D. Cox, to whom it appeared "a loyal city, and as Hampton's cavalry went out one end of the street and our infantry came in at the other, while the carbine smoke and the smell of powder still lingered, the closed window-shutters of the houses flew open, the sashes went up, the windows were filled with ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the national flag, and the men came to the column with fruits and refreshments for the marching soldiers."7

  The Federals went into camp around Frederick. One of them, Private B. W. Mitchell of an Indiana regiment, found three cigars on an abandoned Confederate campsite. The wrapping drew his attention: General Order 191, it appeared to be, an order from General - R. E. Lee outlining marching routes of the Confederate army. This document was soon in the hands of General McClellan, and made this cautious general surprisingly perceptive and bold. The slow

  Federal advance became faster, and pursuit poured into the roads west of Frederick.

  Going westward in Maryland the armies toiled over successive ridges of mountains. The first barrier, three or four miles from Frederick, was Catoctin Mountain, where Stuart left patrols of horsemen; he entered Middletown in the valley below.

  The second barrier, higher and more rugged, was South Mountain, rearing about thirteen hundred feet in rocky, timbered ridges; the two chief passes were a mile apart: Turner's Gap and Fox's Gap. Farther south on this ridge, near the Potomac, was yet another pass, Crampton's Gap.

  A couple of miles westward was a shorter third barrier, Elk Ridge, overlooking the Potomac near Harpers Ferry.

  When the Federal drive from Frederick began, Jackson's divisions were already south of the Potomac. Stonewall was closing in on Harpers Ferry, with its 11,000 Federal troops. McLaws and Walker were aiding him from the Maryland side.

  General Lee waited anxiously for news that would permit re-concentration of his army before the enemy fell upon him. The signs were unexpectedly ominous.

  Stuart's cavalry was pushed off the first barrier, Catoctin Mountain, a little after noon of September thirteenth. Stuart felt no danger, for the army did not intend to fight in this country. He warned General D. H. Hill to occupy Turner's Gap, but he was no more alarmed than Wade Hampton's son Preston, who, left with his father's coat when the general went into action, impatiently tossed aside the garment and followed: "I've come to Maryland to fight Yankees, and not to carry Father's overcoat."8

  By nightfall of September thirteenth the rear of the army was drawn along South Mountain's crest and Stuart held Turner's Gap with the support of an infantry brigade sent back by General Hill. It was easy to read trouble after dark, for in the valley to the east were thousands of Federal campfires; this was a full-scale advance, and not a mere cavalry thrust. General Lee reacted by turning Long-street's men about and marching them rearward to help defend South Mountain. It would be ruinous to have the enemy cross it before the army's divisions pulled together once more.

  Stuart had a mysterious caller in the night, a Southern sympathizer who had heard the story of the Federal discovery of the fateful cigar wrapper. Confederate plans were known to the last detail. Stuart sent the report to headquarters, but even now showed no concern, "still believing," he said, "that the capture of Harpers Ferry had been effected." He sent Hampton's cavalry south to bolster Crampton's Gap, since it was "now the weakest point of the line." He then left Turner's Gap, posting Fitz Lee there. He spent the night near the little town of Boonsboro.

  Jeb said he left Turner's to join the "main part" of his force because "this was obviously no place for cavalry operations, a single horseman passing from place to place on the mountain with difficulty." Near midnight he had a caller, General Ripley of Hill's command, seeking information on the gaps, which Stuart gave "cheerfully," and included maps of the mountain. But when D. H. Hill reached Turner's Gap on the morning of September fourteenth he was surprised to find Jeb gone. Hill also saw from the hilltop the masses of McClellan's ninety thousand, with enemy parties already pushing toward the crest. He called up more infantry from the west.9

  Federal sharpshooters swarmed along the base of the mountain, and Union guns opened fire. The battle for South Mountain crackled along the ridge, and Hill's men held on in desperation, saved more than once by the timely arrival of reinforcements from the rear. The enemy was soon pouring through Crampton's Gap.

  Stuart found an opportunity to lead infantry in the perplexing retreat that night, and he reported it with apparent pride.

  He "rode at full speed" toward Crampton's Gap when he heard of the enemy victory there, and on the way he met General Howell Cobb's Georgians, "retreating in disorder down Pleasant Valley."

  "Yankees two hundred yards behind!" General Cobb said. "In great force. We can't stand."

  Stuart halted the column, sent men into the brush at the roadside, commandeered an artillery battery that he "accidentally met with," and prepared to sell the position dearly.

  There was a long wait, but the enemy did not come. Stuart sent out scouts, and after half an hour
or more they returned: No enemy within a mile. Stuart ordered pickets put out, and rather disgustedly reported: "The command was left in partial repose for the night."

  Stuart was alarmed by a report that John Pelham had been captured, but in the morning Pelham returned with tales of narrow escapes through the enemy lines. Headquarters of the cavalry corps were now near the Potomac, with some squadrons to the west in the passes of Elk Ridge. The troopers heard fighting from along South Mountain, where Hill and now General McLaws were engaged, and from the south, at Harpers Ferry, the fire of Jackson's guns was plain. Heavy lines of Federal infantry came toward Stuart's positions as if they would sweep over them to the relief of Harpers Ferry. But for some reason the enemy advance slowed and bluecoat skirmishers dallied for hours with Stuart's dismounted cavalry in picket lines.

  So long as firing from Harpers Ferry continued, Blackford reasoned, there could be no retreat in that direction.

  Even now, Stuart moved as if oblivious to danger. He was fighting across a beautiful valley of farmland, whose inhabitants had fled, leaving houses locked behind. Captain Blackford noticed an attractive farm with a commanding view of the bluecoat columns. Ripe peaches and grapes were plentiful around the house, and Blackford called to Stuart. Inside, the engineer suggested, they might find more food. Blackford crawled through an unlocked window and was soon passing out to Jeb and the staff meats, bread, milk, butter, cheese and pies. They gulped down delicacies and thrust others into their knapsacks. Enemy bullets snipped leaves above them as the party scampered back to the Confederate lines.

  Almost as the blue and gray skirmish lines collided in earnest, Blackford noted, there was a hush from the south. Jackson's guns had fallen silent across the river, and the enemy on Stuart's front halted as if something had gone awry. Then, fluttering down the valley, from one Confederate unit to another, came a ragged chorus of cheering. A courier from the south found Stuart with a message: Harpers Ferry had fallen, and the garrison was captured.

  A Federal leaped to an exposed stone wall: "What in hell are you fellows cheering for?"

  "Because Harpers Ferry is gone up, God damn you."

  "I thought that was it," the Federal called, and jumped back to safety.10

  Stuart soon pulled his command from this front. Von Borcke had a memory of the moment: "Stuart now came back to us, and was so delighted that he threw his arms around my neck and said, 'My dear Von, isn't this glorious? You must gallop over with me to congratulate old Stonewall.'"

  And with von Borcke, Blackford, Captain Farley and Lieutenant Dabney, Stuart crossed the Potomac and reached Harpers Ferry for a glimpse of the surrender. The young officers were struck by the contrast between the new uniforms of the captive garrison and the dusty rags of Jackson's men. There was an immense store of booty, especially ammunition and small arms. Von Borcke hurried to congratulate Jackson, who replied, "This is all very well, Major, but we have yet much hard work ahead of us."

  The infantry hurried off upstream, in reply to a desperate call for help from General Lee, who was assembling his troops on the north bank of the river at the little town of Sharpsburg, Maryland. As yet, he had only 18,000 in line, waiting for the enemy.

  Stuart was gone from Harpers Ferry even before Jackson, riding up the Maryland side of the river with the brigades of Hampton and Robertson, who had fallen back in the general retreat. Stuart reached Sharpsburg during the night and slept on the porch of a doctor's house. Jeb reported the Harpers Ferry victory to General Lee in detail, and said Stonewall's men would soon join him.

  Jackson reported at noon, September sixteenth, and his men filed into place on the upper end of the line Lee had drawn just east of Sharpsburg. It was still a pitifully small force that was digging in, the winding Potomac at its back. The men lay along a rocky ridge, looking across Antietam Creek to the Federals, who came in from the east.

  General Lee rode anxiously along his front in the morning, and when he saw blue skirmishers slipping farther to his left, he called for Stuart.

  "Find out what they are after, and if they are in force. Take all your cavalry if you need it, and attack."

  Stuart turned to Blackford. "The ground is bad for mounted attack," he said. "See if you can spy them out with a few men, and save us a reconnaissance in force."

  Blackford left with three men. Jeb waited with the cavalry corps drawn up in column. He would wait half an hour, unless he had word from Blackford.

  The engineer captain had some of the army's most powerful field glasses, and when he came to a rise, found the crouching enemy skirmishers in the distance; he saw by the blue piping of their uniforms that they were infantry, and not cavalry. The move to the Confederate left was being made in earnest.

  Blackford went back to Stuart, who then rode forward to see for himself. They fell back from the advanced position under fire, without loss, and reported to General Lee. It was the first indication of a powerful thrust against the exposed left flank, held by Jackson's men,11

  September sixteenth passed with the gathering of the Federals in front, obviously preparing for an assault.

  Jeb lost his staff officers as he rode back and forth in the evening, placing troops and preparing for battle. He had promised to meet von Borcke and Blackford behind the lines, but when he did not appear, the young officers made supper from the remains of the stolen farmhouse treasures and slept in a haystack. They awoke to a roar of gunfire such as they had not heard before: McClellan was tearing at Jackson's flank, and already there was retreat. Panic was in the air.

  Stuart had slept quite near his staff, in a farmyard, and rode in a thin rain to Jackson's front. There was little for him to do; the cavalry was drawn up in a line, from the Potomac to Jackson's flank, ready for action. The horse artillery joined the fury of firing as Hooker's bluecoat infantry broke Jackson's line and the cavalry horses were led to the rear, the troopers fighting dismounted as infantry.

  General Lee hurriedly crossed small regiments from the right to patch Jackson's front, but for hours in the morning it was a smoky chaos. Fighting surged into a woodland around the Dunkard Church near the center of the line, and receded. After a pause, other Federal corps were flung forward toward the right of the thin four-mile Confederate line. Not even the Seven Days had seen such fighting. Today, Lee battled for survival.

  Several men glimpsed Stuart while the guns rolled in the growing heat. John Mosby rode with him past some of Jackson's batteries, over ground so strewn with dead and wounded that the horses had to pick their way with slow care. A farm road nearby was piled fifteen feet deep with bodies; it was to be remembered as Bloody Lane.

  In the rear Stuart's troopers halted all the wounded who walked back, holding under guard those who were not bleeding, and finally barring the way to all who could walk and hold a musket. It was the building of a last pitiful reserve, for use if the enemy should break through.

  Von Borcke rode down the line with Stuart, despairing over the ragged barefoot infantry. The German said he doubted they could endure the fight.

  Stuart was optimistic: "I'm confident that, with God's assistance and good fighting, we'll whip these Yankees badly enough."

  Within a few minutes Jeb was with his guns on Jackson's flank, the twenty-five pieces of the Horse Artillery which were banging away rapidly, but under severe fire. Von Borcke could not persuade Stuart to leave them while the duel went on.

  Blackford reported Jeb constantly riding over the field, watching every turn of the action, and Esten Cooke said that Stuart was once fired upon by a whole bluecoat regiment, and escaped only because his horse was too fast to give enemy marksmen a fair aim.

  In the afternoon there was work for Jeb. Jackson, incredibly enough, planned a counterattack, though the enemy push was so strong that Longstreet's men were driven into Sharpsburg. Stonewall asked Stuart to scout the enemy right. If there was room on the river bank, they would attack on the flank, relieve pressure on the line, and perhaps cause McClellan real trouble. Stuart went off
to investigate.

  Stonewall summoned General J. G. Walker, and as he sat his horse beneath an apple tree, one leg carelessly over the pommel, munching fruit, asked Walker to lend him an infantry regiment.

  "I want to make up a force of four thousand to five thousand men," Jackson said, "and give them to Stuart, so he can get at the enemy right and rear. I want you to attack with your division when you hear Stuart's guns. We'll drive McClellan into the Potomac."

  Hours passed, and there was no further sign of the attack. Walker at last learned what had happened: Stuart took a few riders and some infantrymen to the river, and saw that Federal guns were placed very near the stream—within eight hundred yards, he said. The position was too strong to be stormed by a small force. He took the news to Jackson, who was bitterly disappointed: "It's a great pity. We should have driven McClellan into the Potomac." But he had respect for Stuart's practiced eye, and the attack was forgotten.12 The sun set on a final burst of fighting, as General A. P. Hill came up belatedly with his troops from Harpers Ferry, stormed through the village, and restored Lee's line. Sharpsburg was over, the most costly day of the war. Confederate losses were about ten thousand; Federal were twelve thousand.

  Lee held a council of war in the night, and after his generals reported, decided to hold his ground. Stuart, as he would soon say in his official report, could tell only of light casualties today, and for the entire campaign: "My command did not suffer on any one day as much as their comrades of other arms, but theirs was the sleepless watch and the harassing daily petite guerre, in which the aggregate of casualties sums up heavily. There was not a single day, from the time my command crossed the Potomac ... that it was not engaged with the enemy."