Jeb Stuart, The Last Cavalier

by Burke Davis

  Stuart turned his seven guns on the breakfasting Federals at point-blank range, and the camp was soon a shambles of flying coffee pots, pails and flaming brands. The brave Federals put out a skirmish line, but General Gordon led a mounted charge of North Carolina troopers and swept them back.

  The fight broke off after a few moments and the cavalry was safe. Stuart complained that Lee's infantry had come up too slowly; the foot soldiers protested that Stuart's artillery shells had fallen in their front, holding them back. The army followed the enemy.

  Stuart's report of the affair grumbled over the failure of the infantry: "A vigorous attack with our main body at the time that I expected it would have assured the annihilation of that army corps."7

  Meade was now concentrated around Bristoe Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad slightly to the east. The Confederate infantry followed him there, and with A. P. Hill in the van, recklessly charged. Within fifteen minutes Hill's corps had 1,000 casualties and the enemy took five of his guns.

  General Lee did not hide his disappointment at this end of the campaign. Frank Peak, one of Jeb's troopers, overheard him scolding Hill on a roadway: "General Hill, your line was too short and thin."

  Another heard Lee say as he looked over the bleak scene of Bristoe, "Very well, General, bury these poor men and let us say no more about it."

  The infantry pulled back to the south, but there was a final bit of action for Stuart, who followed Meade to the neighborhood of the old Manassas battlefields. Jeb called the clash The Buckland Races.

  On the night of October eighteenth, Stuart went into camp at Buckland, a bit southwest of Manassas. He was alone, for Fitz Lee was below him at Auburn. At dawn on October nineteenth the enemy advanced by the road from Fairfax Court House. The Federal Willard Glazier wrote:

  "Dripping wet and somewhat stiffened with cold, we were ordered in battle array early in the morning, and the command, about 2,000 strong, advanced toward Buckland Mills. The Rebel pickets were quickly withdrawn, and their whole force slowly and without resistance retired before us."

  But Stuart had a reception planned. As he began to fight Kil-patrick, Jeb had word from Fitz Lee that he was on his way to Buck-land; Fitz added a shrewd plan of battle: "Let Kilpatrick come on, and withdraw in front of him down the Warrenton Road. When he has passed Buckland I will come in with my command and cut him off in the rear." Stuart adopted the plan, and through the morning retreated, leading on the Federals. The trap worked to perfection.

  Glazier described the situation:

  "With some degree of hesitation, yet unconscious of immediate danger . . . Our advance brigade had just passed New Baltimore, when Fitz Lee ... fell upon our rearguard and opened upon our un- suspecting column with a battery of flying artillery.... Stuart, who had hitherto retired before us quietly, now turned about and advanced upon us with terrible determination. Scarcely had we time to recover our sense from the first shock of attack upon our rear and front, when General Gordon, with a third division of cavalry, until now concealed behind a low range of hills and woods on our left, appeared with a furious attack, which threatened to sever our two small brigades."

  Only a determined attack on Fitz Lee got Kilpatrick past the barrier in his rear, and the flight was on. The Federals lost over 300 men in the action, many of them drowned in the creek near Fitz Lee's force. The affair ended with Stuart charging the New York Harris Light in a roadway, as Glazier said: "Amid deafening yells. Our men stood firmly, almost like rocks before the surging sea. We were soon engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand conflict." Glazier was captured here.

  Stuart had taken almost 1,400 prisoners in the ten days of skirmishing. His loss was 400. It was Stuart's last victory over the Federal cavalry corps.

  His troopers were far from comfortable, for they fought under miserable conditions in this weather. Private Hopkins complained:

  "In this section the farmers had no chance to plant crops. The trees had already been stripped of fruit. We could not even find a persimmon and we suffered terribly with hunger.

  "We were looking forward to Manassas with vivid recollections of the rich haul that we had made there just prior to the second battle of Manassas, and everybody was saying, 'We'll get plenty when we get to Manassas'. We were there before we knew it. Everything was changed. There was not a building anywhere. The soil, enriched by debris from former camps, had grown a rich crop of weeds that came halfway up the sides of our horses, and the only way we recognized the place was by our horses, tumbling over the railroad tracks.

  "While fighting just below Manassas, the enemy threw a shell in among the led horses, which burst and killed several of them. A short time after that, while lying in camp, our stomachs crying bitterly for food, someone suggested that we try the horseflesh. I remember pulling out my knife and sharpening it on a stone preparatory to cutting a steak from one of the dead horses, but just at this point a caravan on horseback arrived with a supply of food. We had a rich feast, and were happy again."

  About this time, when the cavalry were fording a stream beside a bridge, General Lee scolded General Lomax. The cavalrymen were wet to the knees.

  "My, General!" Lee said, "you should have used the bridge below."

  Private Hopkins commented: "I suppose General Lomax thought that as we were soldiers we ought not to mind a little wetting even if the cold November winds were blowing."

  Lee put the army into camp around Culpeper, and defended the line of the Rappahannock once more. But on November sixth Meade came forward, after repairing the railroad, and the next day stormed over the river at Kelly's Ford and a neighboring railroad bridge. Confederate infantry losses were heavy. The army dropped back below the Rapidan once more. There was a brief rest.

  Meade pushed over the Rapidan at Germanna and Ely's Fords on November twenty-sixth. Hampton's troopers aided the infantry in checking him, but the Federals remained in threatening position south of the Rapidan, and General Lee had his infantry dig trenches along Mine Run, hopeful that he was to be attacked.

  Hampton, who was only now recovering from his head wound suffered at Gettysburg, offered Lee the key to possible victory at Mine Run—but it was in vain.

  On November thirtieth the enterprising South Carolinian rode on reconnaissance to the right flank overlooking Federal lines. If infantry could strike here, he reasoned, Meade could be rolled up. Stuart inspected the flank, agreed with Hampton's diagnosis, and passed the information to Lee.

  The following movements were too slow, for when Lee pulled two divisions out of the trenches to throw them around the flank, he found the enemy had recrossed the river. Lee could not hide his disappointment.

  "I am too old to command this army!" an aide heard him growl. "We should never have permitted those people to get away."

  Stuart had sent William Blackford to General Lee with the report of a scout that Meade was ready to move, and the captain saw Lee in a rare mood. The commander walked about his headquarters angrily: "Captain, if they don't attack us today, we must attack them! . . . We must attack them, sir! And you young men must exert yourselves. You must exert yourselves, sir!"

  The Federals were gone, in any event, and the cavalry could not be blamed for the lost opportunity. Blackford reported a final scene as the armies lay near together in the frost:

  A farmhouse between the lines, almost picked clean, was the refuge of a lone turkey, which sometimes strutted in the roadway in no man's land. One day a Federal soldier shot the bird, after many attempts, and amid the triumphant shouts of his companions, ran into the open to retrieve his game. A shot from the Confederate lines killed him. A Rebel then dashed into the road, reaching for the turkey. A Union bullet killed him, and the two bodies lay, freezing, across that of the turkey.

  Lee's headquarters were glum. Richmond was trying to persuade the commander to go to the West, in an effort to save Tennessee, and he once left for Richmond, saying to Stuart, "My heart and thoughts will always be with this army," as if he feared he co
uld not return. In the end President Davis sent Joseph Johnston to the border command.

  Lee's health was poor, and he had word of the death of Rooney's wife and children. The suffering of the men moved him, and he was forever writing Richmond in an effort to get shoes, blankets and food. Fevers became common in the city of huts in which the army lived.

  One of winter's victims brought great sadness to Stuart: Sam Sweeney succumbed to smallpox, and the band was never the same, though there was still music almost nightly.

  There was a cavalry review in the cold weather, of which Captain Frank Myers of the 35th Virginia Battalion wrote: "The brigade was ordered to join the division on the historic plains of Brandy Station, where General Stuart purposed holding another of his 'spread-eagle' grand reviews, which did no good except to give Yankee spies an opportunity to count the exact number of cavalry attached to the Army of Northern Virginia, and to display the foppishness of Stuart, who rode along his war-torn lines with a multitude of bouquets, which fair hands had presented to him, fastened in his hat and coat."8

  Stuart had comfortable quarters, which he styled "The Wigwam," and wrote to Flora in Lynchburg, asking her to visit him, saying that he enjoyed the luxury of a private entrance, and that he had her favorite camp horse, "Lily of The Valley," in fine condition for her. He advised her to bring a riding habit.

  There was at least one gay pause in the routine of camp life, a ball held in Montpelier, the old home of President Madison, an occasion remembered by many cavalry veterans who saw Stuart, Fitz Lee, Williams Wickham and the rest of their officer corps dancing with women of the region.

  Stuart also made occasional trips to Richmond, and for the first time capital society was able to lionize him. General Gorgas, chief of Confederate ordnance, saw him in January, 1864, at the home of Mrs. George Randolph, when a party was enjoying charades. Also in the group were other major generals, Hood, Buckner and Elzey, and a number of brigadiers. Gorgas noted: "Stuart is fond of society, but entirely abstemious as to drinks."

  And Mrs. Semmes, wife of the Senator from Louisiana, landed Stuart for a party in her home opposite the Confederate White House. Many leading figures were on hand for the charity affair, among them President and Mrs. Davis, Secretary Judah Benjamin, Secretary of Navy Mallory and his wife, and Burton Harrison, the President's secretary. Several diarists were there, including lovely Constance Cary, soon to become Mrs. Burton Harrison; Mrs. James Chesnut, wife of a leading Presidential advisor; and T. G deLeon, who seemed to be everywhere in the city.

  The crowd had gathered to dance and watch a series of charades and tableaux, now the rage in the city.

  The stage was soon set for the spectacle for which the crowd had come. The audience was seated and actors appeared as a band of pilgrims on a stage dominated by a cross and an altar. An orchestra struck up a tune: Hail, The Conquering Hero Comes!

  DeLeon was impressed: "Forth strode grand Jeb Stuart in full uniform, his stainless sword unsheathed, his noble face luminous with inward fire. Ignoring the audience and its welcome, he advanced, his eyes fixed upon the shrine until he had laid the blade, so famous, upon it. Then he moved to a group, and never raised his eyes from the floor as he stood with folded arms."

  The evening was an immense success. DeLeon recorded more than one such visit by Stuart, some of them made with Esten Cooke, when Jeb's "manly voice would troll out—merrily, if none too correctly—the camp ditty linked with his name: If you want to catch the devil, just jine the cavalry.' "

  Constance Cary saw Jeb and Fitz Lee in another night of charades in a Richmond home—when they went on a strike which was quelled by her pretty cousin, Hetty Cary. Stuart and Lee were detailed to help hold aloft the scenery, and were packed into a closet behind a butler's pantry to steady a ladder for the performers.

  "I won't stay here," Stuart said, "unless Miss Hetty will come and talk to me." He won that concession, but when the show began and Constance took the stage, Jeb's attentions to Hetty caused pandemonium. Constance wrote:

  "Just as I had seated myself upon the stile, held up by General Stuart in the rear, and Vizetelly was prepared to make his swaggering entrance from the side ... my perch gave way and I slid to the ground."

  She darted behind the scenery to scold Stuart, who "protested abject penitence for having forgotten for the moment and let go, and promised better behavior." Miss Cary was firm, however, and the laughing Stuart was banished into the audience and the show went on with Fitz Lee holding the ladder. Fitz declared virtuously: "No young lady can make me forget my responsibility as a step ladder."

  But Constance Cary was not entirely lost in the careless laughter. "In all our parties and pleasurings, there seemed to lurk a foreshadowing of tragedy, as in the Greek plays where the gloomy end is ever kept in sight."

  One officer sorely missed by the city's young women was von Borcke, who had been nursed back to health in the Price home, Dundee, since his wounding before Gettysburg. Connie Cary had found the Prussian giant fascinating the year before: "To dance with him the swift-circling, never-reversing German fashion was a breathless experience, and his method of avoiding obstacles in the ballroom was simply to lift his partner off her feet, without altering his step, and deposit her in safety farther on."

  But now, though he was sometimes seen in Richmond, he was "painfully thin and emaciated," Connie Cary thought. His throat wound was still dangerous, for the bullet was lodged against his windpipe, and any unusual exertion upset him. He wheezed horribly through his wound at every breath. He once startled Miss Cary:

  "Once, when sitting in our drawing room he insisted upon leaning over the back of a sofa to pick up a wandering thimble from the floor, the effort bringing on a frightful fit of coughing and struggling for breath, which my mother dealt with skilfully, while we girls assisted with tears streaming from our eyes."

  Von Borcke got some satisfaction from a joint resolution of thanks from Congress in January, and he noted that the last foreigner to win such an honor was Lafayette. The resolution said in part:

  Having ... by his personal gallantry on the field ... won the admiration of his comrades, as well as of his Commanding General, all of whom deeply sympathise with him in his present sufferings from wounds received in battle, therefore-Resolved by the Congress of the Confederate States of America, that the thanks of Congress are due, and ... tendered to Major Heros von Borcke for his self-sacrificing devotion to our Confederacy.

  The Prussian occasionally saw Stuart in Richmond, and once or twice visited the cavalry camp near Culpeper.

  He wrote: "I was received on all hands, from the General down to the last courier, with so much tender attention that I was deeply touched, and felt it hard to tear myself from the gallant fellows."

  He tried to take the field, but a short time on horseback brought on a relapse, and he again went to a sickbed.

  Jeb soon suffered another loss from the staff: William Blackford left him to help organize an engineer corps for General Lee. Stuart was out of camp on the January day when Blackford left, but he sent him a letter:

  To say that I part with you with regret is a poor expression of what I feel. To no member of my staff have I felt the same bond of attachment, dating to the ever memorable First

  Manassas. . . . We do not part as those who part to meet no more. ... I trust we shall meet again, with no tears to shed, but glad in the sunshine of victory, till peace shall encircle with her rainbow the Independent Confederate States.

  They had met for the last time. With Blackford's departure, all but Esten Cooke of the old-time staff had gone. Jeb had intimate ties with his surgeon, Dr. John Fontaine, and with young Theo Garnett, but the veterans with whom he had lived through so much were all gone: Burke and Farley and Pelham, Hardeman Stuart and Channing Price, dead, and von Borcke wounded.

  There was a final challenge from the enemy before the winter's end. On February twenty-eighth two Federal corps lurched forward through the snows from Culpeper toward Madison Court Hous
e, and General Custer, with about 1,500 horsemen, took Charlottesville. Stuart went toward the town with Wickham's brigade through a sleet storm, but found the enemy had retired. Stuart turned north in the hope of catching Custer; when he reached his road of retreat one regiment had already passed the spot. Jeb settled down to wait for the main column.

  It was an unpleasant night, for freezing rain pelted men and horses and when morning came the command was in a pitiable state. Custer's column, in superb condition, charged down the road, knocking aside the few pickets in its path, and passed Stuart toward its base.

  While Stuart was occupied in this region, the enemy launched its major attack, a raid on Richmond by almost 4,000 of Judson Kil-patrick's cavalrymen. The raiders crossed the Rapidan at Ely's Ford, and with Stuart out of the way and Lee's infantry snug in its camps to the west, struck for the capital. They rode through The Wilderness in the sleet storm and spent the night at Beaver Dam Station, huddling around huge fires to keep warm.

  Kilpatrick split his force during the day, sending southward about 500 men under young Colonel Ulric Dahlgren, who rode with a wooden leg—he had lost a limb in the Gettysburg fighting. Dahl-gren's men went through Spotsylvania Court House to approach

  Richmond from the south, while the Rebel chase concentrated on Kilpatrick's men to the north. Dahlgren was to fight his way to the Rebel prison at Belle Isle, free the 15,000 Union soldiers held in its pens, and dash through the city to rejoin Kilpatrick.

  By morning, Kilpatrick was within five miles of Richmond on the north, on Brook Turnpike, banging away with his few guns. Nothing had been heard from Dahlgren. Kilpatrick gave up at dark, recrossing the Chickahominy to camp. Some of Dahlgren's men came in with an ominous report.