by Burke Davis
Jackson had praise for Stuart's role at Sharpsburg: "This officer rendered valuable service throughout the day. His bold use of artillery secured for us an important position, which had the enemy possessed, might have commanded our left."
The officers returned to their commands with the chilling order: Dig in. We will meet them here, if they want more fight. Day came in silence, with the Confederate 27,000 facing some 75,000 Federal survivors. There was no sign of attack, and the sun rose higher over the exhausted armies and the acres of their dead and wounded.
Stuart rode the lines; his troopers waited in the rear. One of Stuart's staff noted that the thin infantry line had "hardly one man to a rod of ground," yet the enemy did not come.
The first shots of the day were fired by Jeb's troopers in Sharpsburg, killing pigs and chickens; there was soon a maddening scent of cooked meat down the lines, some of whose men had not eaten in two days.
Sporadic shots were exchanged by skirmishers, but the day passed with the armies lying, watching. There was a truce in the late morning for gathering dead and wounded, but the bodies remained "a sickening sight" to von Borcke.
Lee called a second council in the late afternoon, and Stuart rode back for orders. He returned quickly with a task for Blackford:
"I want you to go to the Potomac crossing near Shepherdstown, somewhere above the regular ford, and find a place cavalry can cross. Ask no questions of civilians. I want you back here by sundown. Leave some men at the crossing and take enough to station them two hundred yards apart, all the way back. I want you to be able to guide a column to the river in the dark."
He told Blackford nothing of the purpose of this scout; his engineer needed no explanation. He took a party of horsemen to the river and began his work.
He rode a horse back and forth through the swift water, often going over his depth, and being forced to swim. After several attempts he found a shallow spot below a fish dam; the bottom was rocky and rough, but it was the best of the crossings. He left pickets with orders to respond only to his call in the dark, scattered a chain of riders in the road behind him, and reported to Stuart. A cold sifting rain made the road treacherous.
When night fell on the field before Sharpsburg every command built fires, until lines of them burned from one bend of the river to the other; regiments moved off in the rear. Retreat had begun, and the invasion was over.
Wagons, artillery and infantry went off first, recrossing into Virginia over many fords. Blackford led Hampton's column to his ford, and found it without incident. A few horses and men were lost in the deep water, but most of them clambered, dripping, up the bank into Virginia.
Von Borcke rode with Stuart to the river: "I can safely say that the ride to the Potomac was one of the most disagreeable of my life. A fine rain, which had been falling all the evening, had rendered the roads so deep with mud and so slippery that it was difficult to make any progress at all."
The German fell with his horse five times. Jeb's horse fell in the path of a heavy wagon, and only von Borcke's shout stopped the vehicle and saved the cavalry chief from death beneath its wheels.
The accident did not improve Stuart's temper, for he pushed forward yelling for the wagoners and soldiers to clear the way for him. He was answered in profane defiance by men who did not recognize his voice.
Munf ord's command narrowly averted disaster. It was skirmishing with the enemy on the extreme right of the Confederate line, and Munford discovered his isolated position only by accident, when he rode rearward and met Fitz Lee in Sharpsburg. Munford's was the last cavalry command to recross the river.
The final scenes in the river were tragic to men who had begun the invasion with high hopes.
In the Shepherdstown crossing an ambulance full of wounded soldiers was left in the river by a cowardly driver who had unhitched his horses and fled. General Maxcy Gregg begged his infantrymen to help: "Men, it's a shame to leave the poor fellows here in the water. Can't you take them over the river?"
A dozen men dragged the wagon through the ford, struggling in waist-deep water; watching troops sang: " 'Carry me back to old Virginny!'"
General Walker, who passed General Lee as the commander sat his horse in the river at a ford, assured him that the army had now crossed, except for a few wagons of wounded and a battery of guns, all nearby.
Lee sighed. "Thank God," he said, and rode to the southern shore.
The cavalry had a short respite from the punishing campaign. Troopers led their horses through pitch-blackness after fording the river near Shepherdstown, and at last, near dawn, were allowed to halt. They made beds on the wet ground in the open while rain still fell. Buglers called them up after an hour.
Stuart had orders to recross the river and worry General McClellan in an effort to prevent pursuit of the infantry, and took two brigades and a few of Pelham's guns over the river at Williamsport, entering Maryland once more. They drove out a Federal picket and when the bluecoats returned in force, Stuart fought them off with a blustery show of strength and a great deal of noise.
There were two days of minor skirmishing near Williamsport, ending when Stuart tangled with heavy infantry columns, and got Wade Hampton and his men into a trap from which they barely escaped with their skins. There were more hair-raising adventures for von Borcke's journal, in which he appeared as the hero; there was a moment when a young woman fired one of Pelham's cannon at the enemy, to be known thereafter to gunners as "the Girl of Williamsport." And in the end, on the night of September twentieth, the cavalry escaped into Virginia, defended by artillery from the south shore as they forded the Potomac. Von Borcke wrote: "The whole landscape was lighted up with a lurid glare from the burning houses of Williamsport, which had been ignited by the enemy's shells. High over the heads of the crossing column and the dark waters of the river, the blazing bombs passed each other in parabolas of flame through the air, and the spectral trees showed their every limb and leaf against the red sky."
When the cavalry returned to the army, they found that the enemy had crossed the Potomac and lunged at the rear, taking a number of cannon. Jackson's men had driven the invaders into the river, seizing hundreds of prisoners and drowning many bluecoats in the current. The army soon settled down unmolested, in camps around Winchester.
On September twenty-eighth Stuart moved to The Bower, the plantation of Stephen Dandridge, eight miles from Martinsburg, and the cavalry rested for weeks in idleness, rarely interrupted by prowling Federal patrols. General Lee's headquarters were seven miles away, the cavalry command was left largely to itself, and the campaign was forgotten in pleasant fall days.
Lieutenant Channing Price wrote home the gossip of the command: Colonel Rooney Lee's name was up for a brigadier general's commission, and he would take over most of Robertson's old brigade;
Stuart wanted to divide the cavalry of Colonel Ashby, "so as to make it more efficient, it never having received any discipline under Ashby's hands"; Fitz Lee had been painfully hurt when kicked by a mule, and Rooney Lee had taken his command for the time.13
Somehow, between rounds of social activity, Stuart's work was not neglected; patrols covered the wide front, and paper work in headquarters was relentlessly attacked.
Among the papers of the first days of October was a heated one from Stuart to General McClellan, a protest over recurring reports that prisoners, when paroled, were sent to Minnesota to be used in fighting Indians.
I am reluctant to believe that the U. States authorities would thus violate the spirit of a prisoner's parole by putting arms into his hands before he is exchanged, and hope therefore to receive a disavowal at your hands. . . ,14
The days passed swimmingly. There were minor strains and jealousies among the staff: Blackford noted that von Borcke's vanity led him to forget that he owed everything to General Stuart. But when Stuart discovered a coolness between the German and his engineer he forced them to shake hands and watched carefully to see that they did not quarrel again. Cavalry headqu
arters devoted itself to gaiety once more.
The Jeb Stuart of legend, with the plumed hat, high boots, French saber, golden sash and cinnamon beard he made famous. Probably photographed in the winter of 1863-1864.
Confederate Museum, Richmond
General Philip St. George Cooke, U.S. Cavalry, Stuart's father-in-law who led the hapless chase of Jeb on his first daring raid around the Union Army. Of Stuart and his own son joining the Confederacy, General Cooke growled, "Those mad boys. If only I had been there!" Of Cooke, when he failed to appear in the Confederacy, Stuart wrote: "He will regret it but once, and that will be continuously."
Courtesy Mrs. A. J. Davis, Alexandria, Virginia, granddaughter of J. E. B. Stuart
Cook Collection, Valentine Museum, Richmond
CHAPTER 12
Enemy Country
STUART'S headquarters entourage was now perhaps the army's largest, and his camp at The Bower was the envy of all commands. About the tents under giant oaks on the plantation lawn was an endless procession of officers, couriers, scouts, the general's escort, musicians and servants.
Half the staff were in love with the Dandridge girls or their visiting cousins, and the house was under constant siege. Young Pelham courted several and squired them in a captured army wagon painted an unmilitary yellow. Couples wandered in the woodland and boated on Opequon Creek. Dancing shook the big house almost nightly, and tea was an inevitable rite of the afternoons. There were charades and parlor games; public kissing was a feature of every gathering, with Stuart in the midst of it.
But the candid Blackford, perhaps Stuart's most intimate companion, scolded gossips: "Though he dearly loved to kiss a pretty girl, and the pretty girls loved to kiss him, he was as pure as they.....
I know this to be true, for it would have been impossible for it to have been otherwise and I not to have known it."
Meals were served under a tent fly at a long table, and drew many visitors; food was plentiful, for people of the region showered Stuart with gifts.
When he had finished headquarters paper work in his tent, Stuart would emerge and call for the band. The singers accompanied Sam Sweeney and the violinists, and the mulatto, Bob, rattled the bones. They played "Alabama, Alabama," and "The Girl I Left Behind Me," and "Lorena," and always, "Jine The Cavalry." People came miles to hear the concerts.
Von Borcke left a memory: "Every evening the Negroes would ask for the lively measures of a jig or a breakdown, and then danced within the circle . . . like dervishes or lunatics, the spectators applauding to the echo."
Once after a skirmish near Shepherdstown, Stuart took his staff to visit Lily Parran Lee, the young widow of his friend of the frontier, William F. Lee, who had been killed at First Manassas. Von Borcke witnessed a romantic scene: "A mob of young and pretty girls collected ... all very much excited . . . the General's uniform was in a few minutes entirely shorn of its buttons, taken as souvenirs; and if he had given as many locks of his hair as were asked for, our commander would soon have been totally bald. Stuart suffered all this very gracefully, with the greater resignation as every one of these patriotic young ladies gave him a kiss as tribute."
While he was in Lily Lee's house Stuart wrote an ode to his new horse, Maryland, a comic parody:
I hear your old familiar neigh,
Maryland, my Maryland!
Asking for your corn and hay,
Maryland, my Maryland.
But you must wait till break of day,
And Bob will then your call obey,
And make you look so sleek and gay,
Maryland, my Maryland.
I feel secure upon your back,
Maryland, my Maryland!
When danger howls upon your track,
Maryland, my Maryland.
You bore me o'er the Potomac,
You circumvented Little Mac,
Oh, may I never know your lack,
Maryland, my Maryland!
It was an outing his young men did not forget, long after the poetry was forgiven.1
On Monday, October sixth, Stuart was called from his merriment to army headquarters for a private talk with Lee and Jackson, and when he was recalled several times during the week, the young men prepared for action. Major Kyd Douglas of Jackson's staff dared repeat to Stonewall the gossip that Stuart was to make a bold stab into the heart of the North. Douglas asked permission to go. Stonewall refused, scolding him for prying into secret army matters —but said wistfully that he wanted to ride with the raiders himself, even as a cavalry private.
The interruptions came during a round of parties at The Bower. On Tuesday scores of guests came at the invitation to mingle with the officers at a ball. At its height there was an hilarious apparition, a "Pennsylvania farmer and his bride," two figures in outlandish costumes, the woman towering over six feet and weighing 250 pounds or more, swathed in a white gown. The company stared as the gigantic couple waltzed around the room, and roared with laughter at a glimpse of von Borcke's yellow cavalry boots beneath the skirts of his disguise.
Stuart laughed until tears streamed on his face and hugged von Borcke: "My dear old Von, if I ever could forget you as I know you on the battle field, I will never forget you as a woman." The dance lasted until dawn.2
On Wednesday morning the news spread: "We're raiding into Pennsylvania!" Stuart sent von Borcke to Jackson with dispatches and a gift, a new uniform coat created by a fashionable Richmond tailor. The German found Jackson in the weather-stained coat he had worn throughout the war, and drew out the gift.
Jackson blushed and stammered. "Give Stuart my best thanks, Major," he said. "The coat is much too handsome for me, but I will take the best care of it, and will prize it as a souvenir. Now let's have some dinner."
Jackson began to fold away the coat, but von Borcke and staff officers protested until he put it on. Soldiers ran to whoop over the wonder, and von Borcke reflected that not even the foppish Louis XIV had stirred such excitement with his new garments at Versailles as this strange soldier in the Virginia backwoods.
On his return to camp von Borcke was told of the planned foray into the North and was disappointed to learn that Stuart was leaving him at The Bower, "to fill his place." Blackford recorded that von Borcke was actually left behind because his careless handling of horses had left him without proper mounts for a swift raid.
By now the secret was out at headquarters. Wednesday night Stuart ordered Lieutenant Channing Price, the boy adjutant of these days, to gather all papers requiring Jeb's attention so that they could be signed later in the night without halting the revelry. Price recalled: "We had a pleasant time, music and dancing, until n o'clock, then returned to our tents. The General finished up all his business, and about i o'clock we got the music (violin, banjo and bones) and gave a farewell serenade to the Ladies of The Bower."
Half a dozen or more pretty girls smiled down from their bedroom windows on the torchlight concert, applauding an extensive program. Stuart sang four solos for the young women.
The strains of music had hardly faded from the moonlit lawn before Lieutenant Price, looking over the dispatches, learned of the raid in detail. There was an order from General Lee:
An expedition into Maryland with a detachment of Cavalry, if it can be successfully executed, is at this time desirable. You will, therefore, form a detachment of from twelve to fifteen hundred well mounted men... to cross the Potomac ... and proceed to the rear of Chambersburg, and endeavor to destroy the railroad bridge over the branch of the Conococheague.
Any other damage that you can inflict upon the enemy... you will also execute. You are desired to gain all information of the position, force and probable intention of the enemy which you can....
Should you meet with citizens of Pennsylvania holding State or government offices ... bring them with you, that they may be used as hostages, or the means of exchanges. . . . Such persons will, of course, be treated will all the respect and consideration that circumstances will permit.
Should it be in your power to supply yourself with horses ... you are authorized to do so....
Stuart sent couriers in search of Price early the next morning; they dragged him from the young women at The Bower to complete the general's address to his troopers. The phrases were clearly Stuart's:
Soldiers: You are about to engage in an enterprise which, to insure success imperatively demands at your hands coolness, decision and bravery, implicit obedience to orders without question or cavil, and the strictest order and sobriety on the march and in bivouac.... Suffice it to say, that with the hearty cooperation of officers and men, I have not a doubt of its success —a success which will reflect credit in the highest degree upon your arms.3
Stuart improved upon Lee's order and chose 1,800 men to ride with him, led by the best of his available lieutenants: Wade Hampton, Rooney Lee and W. E. Jones would each take a division of 600 men. Next in command were the daring lieutenants, Williams Wickham and Calbraith Butler. Pelham would take four guns of his horse artillery. Parties of horsemen made rendezvous in the village of Darkesville on the morning of October ninth.
Though the raid had the sound of desperation, broad strategy made it important to the Confederacy; young Price was so impressed by its promise that he resolved to keep an account of the raid for his family.
