Where in the World Is J.E.B. Stuart?
June 26–July 2, 1863: The Rebel Cavalry Takes the Scenic Route to Gettysburg
Doug Niles
Did you ever take one of those road trips where nothing goes right, where events and circumstances and geography itself seem to act maliciously to delay and impede your progress? Say you’re off to join the whole clan for a big reunion. You know that you can travel light, move faster than everyone else, so you decide to take in some out-of-the-way sights along the route. But then you run into one traffic jam after another, and are forced to detour far out of your way.
Then, just when you finally start to make some time, you stumble across a garish tourist trap filled with gaudy souvenirs, and your whole traveling party wants to take a day off for shopping. And after they burden themselves with piles of irresistible baubles, you’re no longer traveling light, or fast. So you prop some toothpicks in your eyes and travel all night, trying to stay awake. You’re almost to your destination, but you run into some local toughs who want to pick a fight—and of course, you can’t just ignore a challenge like that! So in the end you arrive at the three-day party two days late. The clan patriarch isn’t too happy with you, and all you get to do is help with the cleanup.
That narrative, in an admittedly whimsical sense, is an allegory of Confederate cavalry commander General J.E.B. Stuart’s role in the Gettysburg campaign. In the real crucible of Civil War combat, the legendary cavalryman’s loose interpretation of his orders and reckless disregard for the needs of his army commander directly contributed, in no small part, to the single greatest Rebel defeat of the war.
During the first two years of the Civil War, the performances of the cavalry arms of the two opposing forces were very mismatched indeed. The Confederate horse, under the command of dashing leaders such as Nathan Bedford Forrest and Jeb Stuart, consistently outperformed the Union riders. The Rebs regularly raided deep behind the Union front, tearing up rail and telegraph lines, capturing supplies and destroying depots, even menacing northern towns and cities. On two separate occasions, Stuart took his entire force for a fast-moving raid that completely circumnavigated the Union Army in the field. In each case, he returned to Robert E. Lee with valuable information about the enemy’s strength and locations.
By 1863, however, the Yankees were starting to catch up. The more urbanized northerners didn’t start with the tradition of lifelong horsemanship embedded in the southern plantation culture, nor did they cherish the romantic image of the cavalier that seemed to dwell so strongly in many a Rebel bosom. But these Yankees could learn, and learn they did. Beginning with Joe Hooker’s reorganization of the Army of the Potomac’s cavalry arm early that year, the Federal riders strived to meet the Rebs on a more equal footing. True, the first large cavalry operation by the Union, Stoneman’s raid during the Chancellorsville campaign, did little damage to the South and in fact removed a useful asset from Hooker’s purview, but already the die was cast.
A month later, the Gettysburg campaign would provide the first example in the war of the Federal cavalry clearly and decisively outperforming the Confederates. The fault for the Rebel failure in these battles and maneuvers must be placed squarely on the shoulders of the legendary hero Jeb Stuart himself.
Stuart was an accomplished leader, brave in combat, skilled in tactics, bold in operational planning and execution. He gained more esteem, and commanded larger and larger numbers of troops, as the war progressed. He was also a proud, vain man who loved the pomp of uniforms and pageantry, cherished the attention of beautiful ladies, and warily guarded his reputation against any besmirchment. As Lee was getting his army moving north toward Pennsylvania in June 1863, any number of these traits combined in Jeb Stuart’s heart, compelling him to order a grand review of his cavalry for the army commander’s—and Stuart’s own—edification.
At this time, the cavalry corps, five brigades strong, was camped around Brandy Station, a Virginia crossroads just south of the Rappahannock River, near the depot town of Culpeper and conveniently located on the route Lee’s army would follow as it moved north. The date of the review was set for June 5, and the requirements were specific: each officer would acquire a new uniform, and all the horses must be splendid specimens, impeccably groomed. A great ball for the officers and as many of the ladies of Piedmont Virginia as could attend would be held the evening before, in nearby Culpeper.
The review, by all accounts, was a dazzling success. Stuart’s troopers, some 9,500 of them, formed a line more than a mile and a half long. They entertained the watching galleries with a parade ground march, full-speed mock charges, and other displays of horsemanship. Bugles sounded, sabers flashed, and the Rebel yell ululated across the field. The cannons of the horse artillery roared, belching smoke and fire (but no shot) for the entertainment of the gathered audience. The whole affair was followed by another ball, every bit as grand as the first, on the evening following the review.
The only problem was that the army commander was occupied by some important matters regarding the imminent campaign, and was unable to attend. But no matter to Jeb Stuart: he learned that Lee himself would be coming by in a few days, and that the commander wished to review the cavalry. So Stuart’s riders would do it all over again on June 8—though without the galloping, the yelling, and the firing of blanks. (Lee suggested that the horses’ strength, and the gunpowder, be conserved for use in the upcoming campaign.)
But the army commander was duly impressed with his mounted arm, and before Lee and General Longstreet moved toward the Shenandoah Valley for the northward march he praised his cavalry general highly, and left Stuart and his men full of pride and purpose, knowing their importance to the upcoming campaign. They were to screen the movement of the Army of Northern Virginia, gain intelligence on Federal marches and dispositions, and perhaps stir up a little trouble with some raids and fighting as the opportunity arose.
The Rebel riders retired for the night secure in the knowledge that the two nearby fords over the Rappahannock were picketed, and that no signs of Federal activity had been seen on the northern bank. The five brigades prepared to join the army’s march on June 9 . . . until the sound of gunfire, coming from the nearest ford, roused Stuart and his men with the dawn.
It was a surprise attack—the Yankee cavalry had the audacity to attack Stuart at Brandy Station! Using both fords, Union General Alfred Pleasanton attacked aggressively with two divisions in what would be the largest purely cavalry battle of the war. Although it was touch and go for a while, Stuart’s men repulsed the Federals, losing some 500 men while inflicting 900 losses on the 12,000 northerners engaged. Pleasanton’s men retired back across the river, but in the action they had learned that Lee’s army was on the march.
And they had badly embarrassed General J.E.B. Stuart. There were whispers throughout Virginia that Stuart was more interested in impressing the ladies than he was in military preparedness. The Richmond Sentinel boldly admonished: “Vigilance, vigilance, and more vigilance is the lesson taught us by the Brandy surprise!” There is no doubt that these, and even harsher words, stung Stuart to the core, and as the Gettysburg campaign commenced he was determined to restore the glory of his name and reputation.
His first job assignment, however, was relatively mundane. As the long infantry columns moved north through the Shenandoah Valley, to Stuart’s horse was entrusted the task of screening the passes in the Blue Ridge Mountains so that the Yankees couldn’t strike at the army while it was strung out on the march. He reasoned, as the army moved on, that he could complete this task with but two of his five brigades, so he went to the army commander with an idea for the employment of the other three brigades—with Stuart himself at their head, of course.
He proposed that his riders be allowed to follow Hooker, to harass the Federal army and interfere with its operations. Lee and Longstreet were both agreeable to his plan, with the important requirement that, as soon as Hooker crossed the Potomac, Stuart would do the same and interpose his cavalry between the two armies so that he could cover the flank of the Rebel infantry—and, incidentally, keep Lee apprised of Hooker’s movements.
Within the next week, the Army of the Potomac began to move, albeit sluggishly, to follow Lee northward. By June 22, the last of the Federals had abandoned their camps along the Rappahannock, and Stuart was ready to go after them. He would move fast and travel light, with the only wheeled vehicles being six pieces of horse artillery and their caissons. Lee directed Stuart to move into Maryland and take position on the right of Ewell’s corps, which continued to lead the Confederate advance. Longstreet appended a note to the order, adding that Stuart might want to wait until he could follow in the rear of the Army of the Potomac, so that he would be less likely to reveal Rebel intentions. On that same day, some of Stuart’s own scouts suggested that Hooker’s army was spread out so much that the Rebel cavalry could advance and pass between several of the Union corps.
Stuart’s final pre-battle orders from Lee arrived late in the wet, rainy evening of June 23. While continuing to urge his cavalry to keep close to Ewell, even moving into the valley to help screen the army’s movement, the army commander left the door of improvisation open a crack with a key phrase: “You will, however, be able to judge whether you can pass around their army without hindrance, doing them all the damage you can, and cross the river east of the mountains.” Lee concluded: “The sooner you cross into Maryland, the better.”
Stuart made his preparations, and his three veteran brigades moved out at around 1 A.M., June 25. By midday they had encountered the tail end of Hancock’s II Corps, the mass of Federal infantry marching stolidly up the roads Stuart himself intended to use. Here he made the decision that would shape the rest of his role in the campaign: instead of turning west, to close on Lee’s army, Stuart ordered his men to the southeast, seeking a means around the sprawling Union horde.
The detour extended far through Virginia, and it wasn’t until three days later that the Rebel riders were able to cross into Maryland, unopposed, at Rowser’s Ford. After a brief rest, Stuart ordered his men northward early on the 28th, intending to join Lee in Pennsylvania. But the direct route went through Frederick, where the Federals were known to be in force, so once again Stuart would have to veer to the east, seeking passage through Rockville and Westminster.
It was in Rockville that the campaign was finally doomed, though the circumstance of that doom seemed like a windfall at the time. Coming upon a major hub of the Union supply chain, Stuart’s riders ambushed a Federal wagon train, destroying many wagons in a whooping, rollicking fight. More important, they captured 125 of the nicest, shiniest, newest wagons these men had ever seen. Furthermore, each wagon was being hauled by a team of strong, sleek, well-fed mules, every one of them strapped into a brand-new harness. Commented one of Stuart’s colonels: “Such a train we had never seen before and would never see again.”
Stuart was determined that this train be returned to Virginia, after it had been taken to Lee, where the splendid wagons could be filled with all the spoils gleaned from south-central Pennsylvania. This meant, however, that his force would move much more slowly than before. Throw in a little time for railroad wrecking, and the expedition didn’t reach Westminster until evening of the 29th.
By this time, Lee was fretting very much indeed about his lack of information regarding the Union movements, but Stuart remained blissfully unaware of the fact. The army commander was marching blind, deep into enemy country. To make matters worse, Federal cavalry were reporting on Rebel movements, because the Confederate cavalry was nowhere to be found. In effect, the two most important goals of Stuart’s mission—watch the enemy army and screen the friendly army—were not even remotely accomplished.
On the 30th the Rebel cavalry finally moved into Pennsylvania, arriving in the city of Hanover to encounter a force of Union riders. With his men positioned to guard the wagons, not fight, Stuart was forced out of Hanover by a vigorous counterattack. Learning of more enemy horse to the west of the town, Stuart was again forced away from his intended path. At the same time he found newspapers reporting Ewell’s spearheads to be in York, north and east of Stuart’s current position. So onward the Confederate horsemen rode, spending the night in their saddles, catching such sleep as they could.
They advanced on York on July 1, not knowing that Ewell’s advance elements had already been called back to concentrate with the bulk of Lee’s army. On that same day, the Army of Northern Virginia and the Army of the Potomac closed in on Gettysburg, with Lee having no idea of how many Union corps he faced, or where they were coming from.
Meanwhile, Stuart—who was due east of Gettysburg—moved north through Dover, still seeking Ewell. When he encountered several thousand Pennsylvania militia in Carlisle, he—naturally—had to teach them a lesson, wasting more hours in a pointless skirmish that resulted merely in his men burning down the Carlisle barracks. That night, he finally learned that Lee’s army was engaged to the south, around Gettysburg.
Stuart reported to a clearly disappointed Robert E. Lee at the army commander’s headquarters on the afternoon of July 2, when the battle was already two days old. The need for cavalry scouting and screening was well past, though the two men spoke a few words, alone, in a very short time.
History does not record what was said.