The Night Was Very Bad—False Alarms—Ewell Arrives to Confer—General McLaws Eats General Longstreet’s Supper—Planning to Return to England—A Slave Captures His Liberator—Hagerstown Again—Panic in the Dark—These Cavalry Fights Are Miserable Affairs—Meeting Jeb Stuart—Longstreet Advises How to Cross the Lines—Farewell to Lee—Warnings on Getting into Yankee Clutches—A Great Deal Depends upon Falling into the Hands of a Gentleman
5th July (Sunday)—The night was very bad—thunder and lightning, torrents of rain—the road knee-deep in mud and water, and often blocked up with wagons “come to grief.” I pitied the wretched plight of the unfortunate soldiers who were to follow us. Our progress was naturally very slow indeed, and we took eight hours to go as many miles.1
At 8 A.M. we halted a little beyond the village of Fairfield, near the entrance to a mountain pass. No sooner had we done so and lit a fire, than an alarm was spread that Yankee cavalry were upon us. Several shots flew over our heads, but we never could discover from whence they came.
News also arrived of the capture of the whole of Ewell’s beautiful wagons.* These reports created a regular stampede amongst the wagoners, and Longstreet’s drivers started off as fast as they could go. Our medical trio, however, firmly declined to budge, and came to this wise conclusion, partly urged by the pangs of hunger, and partly from the consideration that, if the Yankee cavalry did come, the crowded state of the road in our rear would prevent our escape. Soon afterwards, some Confederate cavalry were pushed to the front, who cleared the pass after a slight skirmish.
At noon, Generals Lee and Longstreet arrived, and halted close to us. Soon afterwards Ewell came up. This is the first time I ever saw him. He is rather a remarkable-looking old soldier, with a bald head, a prominent nose, and rather a haggard, sickly face. Having so lately lost his leg above the knee, he is still a complete cripple, and falls off his horse occasionally. Directly he dismounts he has to be put on crutches. He was “Stonewall” Jackson’s coadjutor during the celebrated Valley campaigns, and he used to be a great swearer—in fact, he is said to have been the only person who was unable to restrain that propensity before Jackson; but since his late (rather romantic) marriage, he has (to use the American expression) “joined the Church.” When I saw him he was in a great state of disgust in consequence of the supposed loss of his wagons, and refused to be comforted by General Lee.
I joined Longstreet again, and, mounted on Lawley’s venerable horse, started at 3 P.M. to ride through the pass. At 4 P.M. we stopped at a place where the roads fork, one leading to Emmetsburg, and the other to Hagerstown. Major Moses and I entered a farmhouse, in which we found several women, two wounded Yankees, and one dead one, the result of this morning’s skirmish. One of the sufferers was frightfully wounded in the head; the other was hit in the knee. The latter told me he was an Irishman, and had served in the Bengal Europeans during the Indian Mutiny. He now belonged to a Michigan cavalry regiment, and had already imbibed American ideas of Ireland’s wrongs, and all that sort of trash. He told me that his officers were very bad, and that the idea in the army was that M’Clellan had assumed the chief command.
The women in this house were great Abolitionists. When Major Fairfax rode up, he inquired of one of them whether the corpse was that of a Confederate or Yankee (the body was in the veranda, covered with a white sheet). The woman made a gesture with her foot, and replied, “If it was a Rebel, do you think it would be here long?” Fairfax then said, “Is it a woman who speaks in such a manner of a dead body which can do no one any harm?” She thereupon colored up, and said she wasn’t in earnest.
At 6 o’clock we rode on again (by the Hagerstown road), and came up with General Longstreet at 7:30. The road was full of soldiers marching in a particular lively manner—the wet and mud seemed to have produced no effect whatever on their spirits, which were as boisterous as ever. They had got hold of colored prints of Mr. Lincoln, which they were passing about from company to company with many remarks upon the personal beauty of Uncle Abe. The same old chaff was going on of “Come out of that hat—I know you’re in it—I sees your legs a-dangling down,” &c.
When we halted for the night, skirmishing was going on in front and rear—Stuart in front and Ewell in rear. Our bivouac being near a large tavern, General Longstreet had ordered some supper there for himself and his staff; but when we went to devour it, we discovered General M’Laws and his officers rapidly finishing it. We, however, soon got more, the Pennsylvanian proprietors being particularly anxious to propitiate the General, in hopes that he would spare their livestock, which had been condemned to death by the ruthless Moses.
During supper, women came rushing in at intervals, saying—“Oh, good heavens, now they’re killing our fat hogs. Which is the General? Which is the Great Officer? Our milch cows are now going.” To all which expressions Longstreet replied, shaking his head in a melancholy manner—“Yes, madam, it’s very sad—very sad; and this sort of thing has been going on in Virginia more than two years—very sad.” We all slept in the open, and the heavy rain produced no effect upon our slumbers.
I understand it is impossible to cross the lines by flag of truce. I therefore find myself in a dilemma about the expiration of my leave.
6th July (Monday)—Several horses were stolen last night, mine nearly so. It is necessary to be very careful, in order to prevent this misfortune. We started at 6:30, but got on very slowly, so blocked up was the road with wagons, some of which had been captured and burnt by the enemy yesterday. It now turned out that all Ewell’s wagons escaped except thirty-eight, although, at one time, they had been all in the enemy’s hands.
At 8:30 we halted for a couple of hours, and Generals Lee, Longstreet, Hill, and Willcox had a consultation. I spoke to —— about my difficulties with regard to getting home, and the necessity of doing so, owing to the approaching expiration of my leave. He told me that the army had no intention at present of retreating for good, and advised me to stop with them and see what turned up. He also said that some of the enemy’s dispatches had been intercepted, in which the following words occur:—“The noble but unfortunate army of the Potomac has again been obliged to retreat before superior numbers.”
I particularly observed the marching today of the 21st Mississippi, which was uncommonly good. This regiment all wear short round jackets, a most unusual circumstance, for they are generally unpopular in the South.
At 12 o’clock we halted again, and all set to work to eat cherries, which was the only food we got between 5 A.M. and 11 P.M.
I saw a most laughable spectacle this afternoon—a Negro dressed in full Yankee uniform, with a rifle at full cock, leading along a barefooted white man, with whom he had evidently changed clothes. General Longstreet stopped the pair, and asked the black man what it meant. He replied, “The two soldiers in charge of this here Yank have got drunk, so for fear he should escape I have took care of him, and brought him through that little town.” The consequential manner of the Negro, and the supreme contempt with which he spoke to his prisoner, were most amusing.
This little episode of a Southern slave leading a white Yankee soldier through a Northern village, alone and of his own accord, would not have been gratifying to an abolitionist. Nor would the sympathizers both in England and in the North feel encouraged if they could hear the language of detestation and contempt with which the numerous Negroes with the Southern armies speak of their liberators.**
I saw General Hood in his carriage. He looked rather bad, and has been suffering a good deal. The doctors seem to doubt whether they will be able to save his arm. I also saw General Hampton, of the cavalry, who has been shot in the hip, and has two saber-cuts on the head, but he was in very good spirits.
A short time before we reached Hagerstown there was some firing in front, together with an alarm that the Yankee cavalry was upon us. The ambulances were sent back; but some of the wounded jumped out, and, producing the rifles which they had not parted with, they prepared to fight. After a good deal of desultory skirmishing, we seated ourselves upon a hill overlooking Hagerstown, and saw the enemy’s cavalry driven through the town pursued by yelling Confederates.
A good many Yankee prisoners now passed us. One of them who was smoking a cigar, was a lieutenant of cavalry, dressed very smartly, and his hair brushed with the greatest care. He formed rather a contrast to his ragged escort, and to ourselves, who had not washed or shaved for ever so long.
About 7 P.M. we rode through Hagerstown, in the streets of which were several dead horses and a few dead men. After proceeding about a mile beyond the town we halted, and General Longstreet sent four cavalrymen up a lane, with directions to report everything they saw. We then dismounted and lay down. About ten minutes later (it being nearly dark) we heard a sudden rush—a panic—and then a regular stampede commenced, in the midst of which I descried our four cavalry heroes crossing a field as fast as they could gallop.
All was now complete confusion; officers mounting their horses, and pursuing those which had got loose, and soldiers climbing over fences for protection against the supposed advancing Yankees.
In the middle of the din I heard an artillery officer shouting to his “cannoneers” to stand by him, and plant the guns in a proper position for enfilading the lane. I also distinguished Longstreet walking about, hustled by the excited crowd, and remarking, in angry tones, which could scarcely be heard, and to which no attention was paid. “Now, you don’t know what it is—you don’t know what it is.”
Whilst the row and confusion were at their height, the object of all this alarm at length emerged from the dark lane, in the shape of a domestic four-wheel carriage, with a harmless load of females. The stampede had, however, spread, increased in the rear, and caused much harm and delay.
Cavalry skirmishing went on until quite dark, a determined attack having been made by the enemy, who did his best to prevent the trains from crossing the Potomac at Williamsport. It resulted in the success of the Confederates; but every impartial man confesses that these cavalry fights are miserable affairs. Neither party has any idea of serious charging with the saber. They approach one another with considerable boldness, until they get to within about forty yards, and then, at the very moment when a dash is necessary, and the sword alone should be used, they hesitate, halt, and commence a desultory fire with carbines and revolvers.
An Englishman named Winthrop, a captain in the Confederate Army, and formerly an officer in H.M.’s 22d regiment, although not in the cavalry himself, seized the colors of one of the regiments, and rode straight at the Yankees in the most gallant manner, shouting to the men to follow him. He continued to distinguish himself by leading charges until his horse was unfortunately killed. I heard his conduct on this occasion highly spoken of by all. Stuart’s cavalry can hardly be called cavalry in the European sense of the word; but, on the other hand, the country in which they are accustomed to operate is not adapted for cavalry.
—— was forced at last to give up wearing even his Austrian forage cap; for the last two days soldiers on the line of march had been visiting his ambulance in great numbers, under the impression (encouraged by the driver) that he was a Yankee general. The idea now was that the army would remain some days in or near its present position until the arrival of the ammunition from Winchester.
7th July (Tuesday)—Lawley, the Austrian, and I drove into Hagerstown this morning, and General Longstreet moved into a new position on the Williamsport road, which he was to occupy for the present. We got an excellent room in the Washington Hotel on producing greenbacks.
Public opinion in Hagerstown seems to be pretty evenly divided between North and South, and probably accommodates itself to circumstances. For instance, yesterday the women waved their handkerchiefs when the Yankee cavalry were driven through the town, and today they went through the same compliment in honor of 3500 Yankee (Gettysburg) prisoners whom I saw march through en route for Richmond. I overheard the conversation of some Confederate soldiers about these prisoners. One remarked, with respect to the Zouaves, of whom there were a few—“Those red-breeched fellows look as if they could fight, but they don’t, though; no, not so well as the bluebellies.”
Lawley introduced me to General Stuart in the streets of Hagerstown today. He is commonly called Jeb Stuart, on account of his initials. He is a good-looking, jovial character, exactly like his photographs. He has certainly accomplished wonders, and done excellent service in his peculiar style of warfare. He is a good and gallant soldier, though he sometimes incurs ridicule by his harmless affectation and peculiarities. The other day he rode through a Virginian town, his horse covered with garlands of roses.
He also departs considerably from the severe simplicity of dress adopted by other Confederate generals; but no one can deny that he is the right man in the right place. On a campaign, he seems to roam over the country according to his own discretion, and always gives a good account of himself, turning up at the right moment; and hitherto he has never got himself into any serious trouble.
I rode to General Longstreet’s camp, which is about two miles in the direction of Williamsport, and consulted him about my difficulties with regard to my leave. He was most good-natured about it, and advised me under the circumstances to drive in the direction of Hancock; and in the event of being ill-treated on the way, to insist upon being taken before the nearest U.S. officer of the highest rank, who would probably protect me. I determined to take his advice at once; so I took leave of him and of his officers.
Longstreet is generally a very taciturn and undemonstrative man, but he was quite affectionate in his farewell. His last words were a hearty hope for the speedy termination of the war. All his officers were equally kind in their expressions on my taking leave, though the last sentence uttered by Latrobe was not entirely reassuring—“You may take your oath he’ll be caught for a spy.” 3
I then rode to General Lee’s camp, and asked him for a pass to get through his lines. We had a long talk together, and he told me of the raid made by the enemy, for the express purpose of arresting his badly wounded son (a Confederate brigadier general), who was lying in the house of a relation in Virginia. They insisted upon carrying him off in a litter, though he had never been out of bed, and had quite recently been shot through the thigh. This seizure was evidently made for purposes of retaliation. His life has since been threatened, in the event of the South retaliating for Burnside’s alleged military murders in Kentucky.
But few officers, however, speak of the Northerners with so much moderation as General Lee. His extreme amiability seems to prevent his speaking strongly against anyone. I really felt quite sorry when I said good-by to so many gentlemen from whom I had received so much disinterested kindness.
I am now about to leave the Southern States, after traveling quite alone throughout their entire length and breadth, including Texas and the trans-Mississippi country, for nearly three months and a half, during which time I have been thrown amongst all classes of the population—the highest and lowest, and the most lawless.
Although many were very sore about the conduct of England, I never received an uncivil word from anybody, but, on the contrary, I have been treated by all with more than kindness.*** I have never met a man who was not anxious for a termination of the war; and I have never met a man, woman, or child who contemplated its termination as possible without an entire separation from the now detested Yankee. I have never been asked for alms or a gratuity by any man or woman, black or white. Everyone knew who I was, and all spoke to me with the greatest confidence,
I have rarely heard any person complain of the almost total ruin which had befallen so many. All are prepared to undergo still greater sacrifices—they contemplate and prepare to receive greater reverses which it is impossible to avert. They look to a successful termination of the war as certain, although few are sanguine enough to fix a speedy date for it, and nearly all bargain for its lasting at least all Lincoln’s presidency.
Although I have always been with the Confederates in the time of their misfortunes, yet I never heard any person use a desponding word as to the result of the struggle. When I was in Texas and Louisiana, Banks seemed to be carrying everything before him, Grant was doing the same in Mississippi, and I certainly did not bring luck to my friends at Gettysburg. I have lived in bivouacs with all the Southern armies, which are as distinct from one another as the British is from the Austrian, and I have never once seen an instance of insubordination.
When I got back to Hagerstown, I endeavored to make arrangements for a horse and buggy to drive through the lines. With immense difficulty I secured the services of a Mr. ——, to take me to Hancock, and as much farther as I chose to go, for a dollar a mile (greenbacks). I engaged also to pay him the value of his horse and buggy, in case they should be confiscated by either side. He was evidently extremely alarmed, and I was obliged to keep him up to the mark by assurances that his horse would inevitably be seized by the Confederates, unless protected by General Lee’s pass in my possession.
8th July (Wednesday)—My conductor told me he couldn’t go today on account of a funeral, but he promised faithfully to start tomorrow. Everyone was full of forebodings as to my probable fate when I fell into Yankee clutches. In deference to their advice I took off my gray shooting-jacket, in which they said I was sure to be taken for a Rebel, and I put on a black coat. But I scouted all well-meant advice as to endeavoring to disguise myself as an “American citizen,” or to conceal the exact truth in any way. I was aware that a great deal depended upon falling into the hands of a gentleman, and I did not believe these were so rare in the Northern Army as the Confederates led me to suppose.
* It afterwards turned out that all escaped but thirty-eight.2
** From what I have seen of the Southern Negroes, I am of opinion that the Confederates could, if they chose, convert a great number into soldiers; and from the affection which undoubtedly exists as a general rule between the slaves and their masters, I think that they would prove more efficient than black troops under any other circumstances. But I do not imagine that such an experiment will be tried, except as a very last resort. …
*** The only occasion on which I was roughly handled was when I had the misfortune to enter the city of Jackson, Mississippi, just as the Federals evacuated it. I do not complain of that affair, which, under the circumstances, was not to be wondered at.