Soon after the outbreak of war in the spring of 1861 the First Regiment of Virginia Cavalry was organized with J. E. B. Stuart as colonel. He was then just twenty-eight years of age, a native of Virginia and a graduate of West Point. As lieutenant of cavalry he had had some experience in Indian warfare in the West in which he had been wounded; and in the raid of John Brown on the United States arsenal at Harper's Ferry had acted as aide to Colonel (afterwards General) Robert E. Lee.

The First Virginia Cavalry was attached to the command of General Joseph E. Johnston in the Shenandoah valley and assigned to the duty of watching Patterson, who had crossed the Potomac and was threatening the Southern army, then at Winchester. I was a private in a company of cavalry called the Washington Mounted Rifles, which was commanded by Capt. William E. Jones, an officer who some years before had retired from the United States army, and gave the company the name of his old regiment. Jones was a graduate of West Point and had been a comrade of Stonewall Jackson's while there. He has often entertained me in his tent at night with anecdotes of that eccentric genius. No man in the South was better qualified to mould the wild element he controlled into soldiers. His authority was exercised mildly but firmly, and to the lessons of duty and obedience he taught me I acknowledge that I am largely indebted for whatever success I may afterwards have had as a commander.

I first saw Stuart in the month of July, 1861, at a village called Bunker Hill on the pike leading from Winchester to Martinsburg, where Patterson was camped. His regiment was stationed there to observe the movements of the Union army. His personal appearance bore the stamp of his military character, the fire, the dash, the energy and physical endurance that seemed able to defy all natural laws. Simultaneously with the movement of McDowell against Beauregard, began Patterson's demonstration to keep Johnston at Winchester. It was, however, too feeble to have any effect except to neutralize his own forces. The plan of the Southern generals was to avoid a battle in the valley and concentrate their armies at Manassas. The duty was assigned to Stuart's cavalry of masking the march of Johnston to Manassas and at the same time watching Patterson. General Scott had ordered him to feel the enemy strongly and not to allow him to escape to Manassas to reinforce Beauregard. Patterson replied in the most confident tone that he was holding Johnston.

After the battle had been won by the Confederates, in reply to Scott's criticism upon him for not having engaged them, Patterson comforted him with the assurance that if he had done so, Scott would have had to mourn the defeat of two armies instead of one. The records show that at that time Patterson had about 18,000 men and Johnston about 10,000.

On the 15th of July, Patterson advanced and drove us with artillery from our camp at Bunker Hill. Stuart had none to reply with. All of us thought a battle at Winchester was imminent. Patterson had one regiment of the regular besides some volunteer cavalry from Philadelphia, but made no use of them. He never sent his cavalry outside his infantry lines, and their only service was to add to the pomp and circumstance of war on reviews and parades. He stayed one day at Bunker Hill, and then, thinking he had done enough in driving us away, turned off squarely to the left and marched down to Charlestown. He had not been in twelve miles of our army, and this was the way he executed General Scott's order to feel it strongly.

Stuart still hung so close on his flanks that he occasionally let a shell drop among us. As soon as the movement to Charlestown was developed, Johnston received intelligence of it through Stuart. He saw then that Patterson did not intend an attack, and got ready to join Beauregard. The Union general went into camp at Charlestown while the Confederate folded his tent like the Arab and quietly stole away. Stuart spread a curtain of cavalry between the opposing armies which so effectually concealed the movement of Johnston, that Patterson never suspected it until it had been accomplished. The telegraphic correspondence at that time between Generals Scott and Patterson now reads like an extract from the transactions of the Pickwick Club.

On July 13th, Scott telegraphs to Patterson: "Make demonstrations to detain Johnston in the valley." July 14th, Patterson replies: "Will advance to-morrow. Unless I can rout shall be careful not to set him in full retreat toward Strasburg." He seemed to be afraid of frightening Johnston so much that he would run away. Again, Scott telegraphs to Patterson: "Do not let the enemy amuse and delay you with a small force in front whilst he reinforces the junction with his main body." This shows that General Scott, who was in Washington, had the sagacity to discern what we were likely to do.

On July 18th, General Scott says to him: "I have been certainly expecting you to beat the enemy. If not, to hear that you had felt him strongly, or, at least, had occupied him by threats, and demonstrations." At that time Patterson was twenty miles distant from Johnston and never got any closer. This was all the feeling he did. On the same day Patterson replies: "The enemy has stolen no march on me. I have kept him actively employed, and by threats and reconnoissances in force caused him to be reinforced." At that time, Johnston was marching to Manassas, and Stuart's cavalry were watching the smoke as it curled from the Union camps at Charlestown.

Again, on July 18th, in order to make General Scott feel perfectly secure, Patterson tells him: "I have succeeded, in accordance with the wishes of the General-in-Chief, in keeping Johnston's force at Winchester. A reconnoissance in force on Tuesday caused him to be largely reinforced from Strasburg." And on July 21st, when the junction of the two armies had been effected, and the great battle was raging at Manassas, he telegraphs to Scott: "Johnston left Millwood yesterday to operate on McDowell's right and to turn through Loudoun on me."

As Patterson was haunted by the idea that Johnston was after him, although he had marched in an opposite direction, he concluded to retreat to Harper's Ferry. The success of Johnston's strategy in eluding Patterson and cheating him into the belief that he was still in the valley, is due to the vigilance of Stuart and his activity and skill in the management of cavalry. The Northern General never discovered how badly he had been fooled until the day of the battle, when he was too far away to give any assistance. But Stuart was not satisfied with the work he had done. After the infantry had been transferred to the railroad east of the Blue Ridge, he left a single company as a veil in front of Patterson and joined the army at Manassas on the evening before the battle. We had been almost continuously in the saddle for a week, and I have a vivid remembrance of the faces of the men—bronzed with sun and dust from the long march. The two armies were in such close contact that all knew there would be a battle on the morrow. Patterson was safe in the valley.

When he was before the committee on the Conduct of the War to give his reasons for not advancing on Johnston at Winchester, he filed a paper containing the following statement: "Among the regiments there was one of Kentucky riflemen armed with heavy bowie knives; they refused to take more than one round of cartridges. They proposed to place themselves in the bushes for assault." Of course, no prudent commander would lead men where they would be disembowelled by an enemy hidden in the bushes. Perhaps General Patterson was imitating the example of Othello, and trying to captivate Congressmen, as the Moor did the ear of Desdemona, with tales of

On the night before the battle, the raw troops were excited by every noise, and the picket firing was incessant. We slept soundly in our bivouac in the pines, and early in the morning were awakened by the reveille that called us to arms. As the sun rose, the rattle of musketry began along Bull Run, and soon from one end of the line to the other there was a continuous roar of small arms and artillery.

War loses a great deal of its romance after a soldier has seen his first battle. I have a more vivid recollection of the first than the last one I was in. It is a classical maxim that it is sweet and becoming to die for one's country; but whoever has seen the horrors of a battle-field feels that it is far sweeter to live for it. The Confederate generals had expected a battle on our right; as a fact, our left wing was turned, and the battle was mostly fought by Johnston's troops, who, having come up the day before, had been held in reserve. Stuart's regiment having just arrived, had not been sent on the outposts, and hence is in no way responsible for the surprise. In the crisis of the battle, when Jackson with his brigade was standing like a stone wall against the advancing host, he called for Stuart's cavalry to support him. Stuart sent one squadron to Jackson's right, under the Major, who did nothing (I was with him), while with six companies he came up on Jackson's left, just in time to charge and rout the Ellsworth Zouaves. Their general, in his report, says that he was never able to rally them during the fight.

This cavalry charge had an important effect upon the fortunes of the day, as it delayed the enemy, and gave time for troops to come to the relief of Jackson, who was then hard pressed by superior numbers. Stuart afterward, with a battery of artillery, led the turning movement that caused the rout, and associated the stream of Bull Run with the most memorable panic in history. Shortly after the battle, all the cavalry of the army was organized into a brigade, with Stuart in command. Jones was also promoted to be colonel of the regiment, and Fitz Lee became lieutenant-colonel. From this time until the army evacuated Manassas, in the spring of 1862, the cavalry was almost exclusively engaged in outpost duty. McClellan kept close to the fortifications around Washington while he was organizing the army of the Potomac, and his cavalry rarely ventured beyond his infantry pickets. No field was open for brilliant exploits; but the discipline and experience of a life on the outpost soon converted the Confederate volunteers into veterans.

Without intending any disparagement, I may say that the habits and education of Northern men had not been such as to adapt them readily to the cavalry service, without a process of drilling; while, on the contrary, the Southern youth, who, like the ancient Persians, had been taught from his cradle "to ride, to shoot, and speak the truth," leaped into his saddle, almost a cavalryman from his birth. The Cossacks, who came from their native wilds on the Don to break the power of Napoleon, had no other training in war than the habits of nomadic life; and in the same school were bred the Parthian horsemen who drove to despair the legions of Crassus and Antony.

I must also say that the Confederate authorities made but slight use of the advantage they enjoyed in the early periods of the war, for creating a fine body of cavalry; and that little wisdom was shown in the use of what they did have. It would have been far better military policy, during the first winter of the war, to have saved the cavalry as McClellan did, either to lead the advance or cover the retreat in the spring campaign. It was largely consumed in work which the infantry might have done, without imposing much additional hardships on them, as the proportion of cavalry was so small. When the Southern army retired, in March, 1862, three-fourths of the horses had been broken down by the hard work of the winter, and the men had been furloughed to go home for fresh ones. The Confederate government did not furnish horses for the cavalry, but paid the men forty cents a day for the use of them. This vicious policy was the source of continual depletion of the cavalry. Stuart's old regiment,—the First Virginia Cavalry,—of which I was adjutant, with at least 800 men on its muster-rolls, did not have 150 for duty on the morning we broke up winter quarters on Bull Run. If the cavalry brigade had been cantoned on the border, in the rich counties of Fauquier and Loudoun, the ranks would have been full, and their granaries would not have been left as forage for the enemy. The Confederate army fell back leisurely from the front of Washington, and rested some weeks on the Rappahannock, waiting the development of McClellan's plans. Stuart's cavalry was the rear-guard. Sumner pushed forward with a division along the Orange and Alexandria railroad, to make a demonstration and cover McClellan's operations in another direction. He rather overdid the thing. On reaching our picket line on Cedar Run, he made a grand display by deploying his whole force in an open field. I happened to be on the picket line that day, and told Col. Jones that it was only a feint to deceive us. We retired, and the enemy occupied our camping-ground that night.

The next morning Stuart was at Bealeton station; and our skirmishers were engaged with the enemy, who was advancing towards the Rappahannock. My own regiment had just taken position on the railroad, when I rode up to Stuart, with whom I had become pretty well acquainted. Since we had left the line of Bull Run, I had several times returned on scouts for him. He said to me, "I want to find out whether this is McClellan's army or only a feint." I replied, "I will go and find out for you." I immediately started towards the rear of the enemy's column with two or three men, and reached a point some distance behind it about the time they were shelling our cavalry they had driven over the river. I saw that the enemy was only making a demonstration, and rode nearly all night to get back to Stuart. When I got to the river, we came very near being shot by our own pickets, who mistook us for the enemy. I found Stuart with Gen. Ewell, anxiously waiting to hear from me, or for the enemy to cross the river.

I have not been so fortunate as to have a poet to do for me on this occasion what Longfellow did for the midnight ride of Paul Revere. There was a drizzling rain and a dense fog; it was impossible to see what the enemy were doing. I remember Stuart's joy and surprise when I told him that they were falling back from the river. In the rapture of the moment he told me that I could get any reward I wanted for what I had done. The only reward I asked was the opportunity to do the same thing again.23 In ten minutes the cavalry had crossed the river and was capturing prisoners. Nothing had been left before us but a screen of cavalry, which was quickly brushed away. It now became evident that McClellan would move down the Potomac and operate against Richmond from a new base and on another line. This was the first cavalry reconnoissance that had ever been made to the rear of the enemy, and was considered as something remarkable at that time; at a later period they were very common. Soon after this, Stuart's cavalry was transferred from the line of the Rappahannock with the rest of Johnston's army, to confront McClellan on the Peninsula. I dined with Gen. Lee at his headquarters, near Petersburg, about six weeks before the surrender. He told me then that he had been opposed to Gen. Johnston's withdrawing to the Peninsula, and had written to him while he was on the Rapidan, advising him to move back towards the Potomac. He thought that if he had done this, McClellan would have been recalled to the defence of Washington. He further said that, instead of falling back from Yorktown to Richmond, Gen. Johnston should have made a stand with his whole army, instead of a part of it, on the narrow isthmus at Williamsburg.

Just before we reached Williamsburg, news came of the passage of the conscription law, which preserved all the regimental organizations as they were. The men were held in the ranks, but allowed to elect their company officers; and these in turn elected field officers. It is hard to reconcile democracy with military principles; and, consequently, many of the best officers were dropped. Such was the fate of my colonel. The staff officers, not being elected, were supposed to hold over without reappointment. I immediately handed my resignation as adjutant to the new colonel,—Fitz Lee,—who accepted it.

The conscription law at first produced some dissatisfaction among the men, as most of them had served twelve months without a furlough; but this soon subsided. All acquiesced in what was regarded as imperious necessity. The loss of our positions in the First Virginia Cavalry resulted in a benefit both to Jones and myself. Through the influence of Stonewall Jackson, Jones was made a brigadier-general, and soon after the death of Ashby was given the command of his brigade. Stuart invited me to come to his headquarters and act as a scout for him. In this way I began my career as a partisan, which now, when I recall it through the mist of years, seems as unreal as the lives of the Paladins.

I wish it to be understood that a scout is not a spy who goes in disguise, but a soldier in arms and uniform who reconnoitres either inside or outside an enemy's line. Such a life is full of adventure, excitement, and romance. Stuart was not only an educated, but a heaven-born soldier, whose natural genius had not been stifled by red tape and the narrow rules of the schools.

The history of the war furnishes no better type of the American soldier; as a chief of cavalry he is without a peer. He cared little for formulas, and knew when to follow and when to disregard precedents. He was the first to see that the European methods of employing cavalry were not adapted to the conditions of modern war.24 His inventive genius discovered new ways of making cavalry useful, that had never been dreamed of by the regular professors of the science. I will now give some illustrations of his originality and the fertility of his resources. When McClellan was lying in the swamps of the Chickahominy, the infantry lines of the two armies were so close together that cavalry operations in their front were impracticable. One morning, when Stuart's headquarters were near Richmond, he invited me to breakfast with him, and at the table asked me to take two or three men and find out whether McClellan was fortifying on the Totopotomoy Creek. I had been inactive for some time, and this was just the opportunity I wanted. I started, but was diverted from the route I had been directed to go by there being a flag of truce on the road. I did not want to return without accomplishing something, so I turned north and made a wide detour by Hanover Court House. Although I was then engaged in the business of breaking idols, I had not lost all reverence for antiquity. I stopped a while to muse in the old brick building where Patrick Henry made his first speech at the bar, and pleaded the cause of the people against the parsons. In order to understand the enterprise on which I was going, a geographical description of the country and situation of the armies is necessary. The battle of Fair Oaks or Seven Pines had been fought, and the army of the Potomac was lying on the Peninsula between the James and Pamunkey rivers, and astraddle of the Chickahominy, which meanders between them and finally empties into the James. McClellan's right wing rested on the Pamunkey, with his base at the White House and his line of supply by the York River Railroad. His left extended to within a few miles of the James. The Totopotomoy Creek flows into the Pamunkey. I got down in the enemy's lines on the Totopotomoy and ascertained that six or eight miles of McClellan's front was a mere shroud of cavalry pickets that covered his line of communication with his depot at the White House. Of course, as he had no infantry on his right there would be no fortifications there. The idea immediately occurred to me that here was a grand opportunity for Stuart to strike a blow. It is now clear why General Lee wanted to get information about the enemy's fortifying the Totopotomoy.

About three weeks after that he called Jackson from the valley, who struck McClellan on this very ground. I was chased away from there and came out just behind a regiment of Union cavalry going on a scout. They very little thought that I was coming back so soon. I hastened to Stuart's headquarters to give him the information. Everybody there was in high glee. News had just come of Jackson's victories over Fremont and Shields: Cross Keyes and Port Republic had been inscribed on his banners. It was a hot day in June, and Stuart was sitting under the shade of a tree, and I lay down on the grass to tell him what I had learned. After giving him the information, I remarked, that as the cavalry was idle, he could find on the Pamunkey something for them to do. A blow on this weak point would greatly alarm McClellan for the safety of his supplies, and compel him to detach heavily from his front to guard them. After I got through, he said to me, "Write down what you have told me." I went to his adjutant's office and wrote it down hurriedly; but, not attaching much importance to it, did not sign the writing. When I brought the paper to Stuart he had his horse ready to mount. He called my attention to the omission, and I went back and signed it. He started off at a gallop with a single courier to General Lee's headquarters. He returned that afternoon, and orders were immediately issued for a part of the cavalry to get ready to march.

General Lee's instructions to Stuart, directing, or rather authorizing, the expedition, are dated June 11, which shows how soon he started after my return, which was on the 10th.25 With about 1200 cavalry and two pieces of artillery, on the morning of June 12, Stuart left Richmond, moving in a northerly direction, to create the impression that he was going to reinforce Jackson. That night we bivouacked within a few miles of Hanover Court House. During his absence his adjutant was left in charge of his headquarters. I was present when he started. The adjutant asked him how long he would be gone. Stuart's answer was, "It may be for years, and it may be forever." Taking leave of his staff had suggested the parting from Erin and Kathleen Mavourneen.

There were many surmises as to his destination; but I never doubted for a moment where we were going. Early the next morning Stuart sent me on in advance with a few men to Hanover Court House, and I then saw that my idea of a raid on McClellan's lines was about to be realized. When we got within a few hundred yards of the village, a squadron of cavalry was discovered there, and I sent a man back to inform Stuart of it, so that he might send a regiment round to cut off their retreat. He ordered the First Virginia Cavalry to go; but the enemy, suspecting that there was a stronger force than they could see, withdrew too soon to be caught.

The column then pushed rapidly towards the camp of Union cavalry at Old Church. At that place Captain Royall was stationed with two squadrons of the 5th U.S. regular cavalry. There was a running fight of several miles with the pickets, and finally we met Captain Royall, who came out with his whole command to reinforce the outpost. He had no suspicion of the number he was attacking, and as soon as he came in sight, Stuart ordered the front squadron of the 9th Virginia cavalry to charge. Royall was wounded and routed. On our side, Captain LatanÉ was killed. We could not stay to give him even the hasty burial that the hero received who died on the ramparts of Corunna. This was left for female hands to do. The scene has been preserved on canvas by a Virginia artist. As Royall's command had been scattered, we soon had possession of his camp, and were feasting on the good things we found in it. Nearly everybody forgot—many never knew—the danger we were in. A mile or so on our left was an impassable river—not more than six miles to the right were McClellan's headquarters, with Fitz John Porter's corps and the reserve division of cavalry camped near us. Here was the turning-point of the expedition. Stuart was as jolly as anybody; but his head was always level in critical moments—even in the midst of fun. There was a short conference between him and the Lees, who were the colonels of the two Virginia regiments. I was sitting on my horse, buckling on a pistol I had just captured, within a few feet of them and heard all that passed. Stuart was for pushing on to the York River Railroad, which was still nine miles off. Lee, of the 9th (son of General R. E. Lee), was in favor of it, but Fitz Lee was opposed. Stuart had no idea of turning back, and determined to go on and strike McClellan in his rear. In the conception and execution of this bold enterprise he showed the genius and the intrepid spirit that took the plunge of the Rubicon.

Just as he gave the command, "Forward!" he turned to me, and said, "Mosby, I want you to ride some distance ahead." I replied: "Very well. But you must give me a guide; I don't know the road." He then ordered two cavalrymen who were familiar with the country to go with me; and I started on towards Tunstall's station. I was on a slow horse; and I remember that I had not gone very far before Stuart sent one of his staff to tell me to go faster and increase the distance between us. It was important that we should reach the railroad before dark, or reinforcements could be sent there. So I went on with my two men at a trot.26

Stuart's biographer, without so intending, has made a statement which if true would rob him of all the glory of the enterprise. He says that after reaching Old Church, Stuart kept on because it was safer than to go back by the route he had come. The road to Hanover Court House was open; and it would not have been possible for the enemy to have closed it against him for several hours. The fight with Royall was near his camp, and did not last five minutes; it took only a few minutes to destroy it. If he had intended to return by Hanover, he would have left pickets behind him to keep the way open. But he did nothing of the kind. He took no more account of his rear than Cortez did when he burned his ships, and marched to the capital of the Aztec kings. The route of the two squadrons of cavalry was, in itself, an insignificant result as compared with the magnitude of the preparation. At this point, he had simply broken through McClellan's picket line, but had not gained his rear. To have returned after doing this and no more, would have been very much like the labor of a mountain and the birth of a mouse. The fight and capture of Royall's camp at Old Church occurred about two o'clock P.M., on June 13. The nearest camps were three or four miles off. Major Williams reports that he came on the ground with 380 of the 6th cavalry at 3.30 P.M., about one hour after the rear of Stuart's cavalry had passed on towards Tunstall's. This one hour would of itself have been amply sufficient to allow Stuart's return unmolested before the arrival of that force. It will hardly be contended that 380 men of any cavalry the world ever saw could have stopped Stuart with 1200 men and two pieces of artillery. The 5th U.S. cavalry came on the ground about five o'clock; and Gen. Cook (who was Stuart's father-in-law), with the rest of his cavalry division, Warren's brigade of infantry, and a battery of artillery, reached there after dark. It is very difficult, therefore, to see what there was to prevent Stuart from returning if he had so desired. In all, there were two brigades of cavalry, one of infantry, and a battery of artillery sent in pursuit of him.

Gen. Emory, who led the advance, says that he followed on Stuart's track, and reached Tunstall's at two o'clock that night, where he found Gen. Reynolds, who had come up with a brigade of infantry on the cars about twelve o'clock. Reynolds says that our rear guard had left there about two hours before he arrived. At Tunstall's, Gen. Emory says he lost Stuart's trail, and set every squadron he had to hunting for it, and did not succeed in finding it until eight o'clock the next morning. As Stuart had left Tunstall's on the plain country road on which he had been marching all day, and on which Gen. Emory had followed him, it seems strange that 1200 cavalry, with two pieces of artillery, should have left no track behind them. Gen. Warren says that "the moon was shining brightly, making any kind of movement for ourselves or the enemy as easy as in daylight."

General Cook, with the rest of the cavalry, and infantry, and artillery, arrived about 9 o'clock the next morning. General Emory then moved forward in pursuit with infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Warren says: "It was impossible for the infantry to overtake him [Stuart], and as the cavalry did not move without us, it was impossible for them to overtake him." And Fitz John Porter regrets, "That when General Cook did pursue he should have tied his legs with the infantry command." Perhaps General Cook was acting on the maxim that recommends us to build a bridge of gold for a retreating foe. But then it can hardly be said that Stuart was retreating. As there were six cavalry regiments—including all the regulars—on our track, with a battery of artillery, it is hard to see the use they had for infantry, except as a brake to keep them from going too fast. The pursuit was from beginning to end a comedy of errors. The infantry could not have expected to overtake us, whereas, if we had attempted to return by the same route we came, then they might have intercepted us by remaining where they were.

Stuart was reduced to the alternative of returning home by the road along the Pamunkey, or the one up James River. If he took the latter, then a slight extension of McClellan's left flank would have barred his way. It could hardly have been imagined that we were going down to capture Fort Monroe, or that Stuart's cavalry were amphibious animals that could cross the York and James rivers without pontoons. Only the cavalry on McClellan's right was in the pursuit. He had an abundance on his left to block our way, and they had twenty-four hours' notice of our coming. Now to return to my narrative of Stuart's march. As I was jogging along with my two companions, a mile or two ahead of the column, I came upon a well-filled sutler's wagon at a cross-roads, of which I took possession by right of discovery. At the same time, about a mile off to my left, I could see the masts of several vessels riding at anchor in the river. I sent one of the men back to tell Stuart to hurry on. The sutler was too rich a prize to abandon, so I left the other man in charge of him and his wagon and hurried on. Just as I turned a bend of the road, I came plump upon another sutler, and a cavalry vidette was by him. They were so shocked by the apparition that they surrendered as quietly as the coon did to Captain Scott. Tunstall's Station was now in full view a half a mile off. I was all alone. Just then a bugle sounded. I saw about a squadron of cavalry drawn up in line, near the railroad.27 I knew that the head of our column must be close by, and my horse was too tired to run, so I just drew my sabre and waved it in the air. They knew from this that support was near me. In a few seconds our advance guard under Lieutenant Robbins appeared in sight, and the squadron in front of me vanished from view. Robbins captured the depot with the guard without firing a shot. Stuart soon rode up. Just then a train of cars came in sight, and as we had no implements with which to pull up a rail, a number of logs were put on the track. When the engineer got near us, he saw that he was in a hornet's nest, and with a full head of steam dashed on under a heavy fire, knocked the logs off the track, and carried the news to the White House below. General Ingalls, who was in command of the depot there, says that he had received a telegram from General McClellan's headquarters, telling him of the attack on Royall's camp and warning him of danger. As soon then as the telegraph line was broken, which was about sunset on the 13th, it was notice to McClellan that we were in his rear and on his line of communication.

There was now but one route by which we could return, and that was up James River. Yet he made no signs of a movement to prevent it, and the only evidence that he knew of our presence is a telegram to Stanton on the next day—dated 11 A.M., June 14th, saying that a body of cavalry had passed around his right and that he had sent cavalry in pursuit to punish them. Before reaching Tunstall's, Stuart sent a squadron to burn the transports in the river and a wagon train that was loading from them. The small guard fled at the approach of our cavalry, while the schooners and wagons disappeared in smoke. As some evidence of the consternation produced by this sudden irruption, I will mention the fact, that after we left Old Church, a sergeant with twenty-five men of the United States regular cavalry followed on under a flag of truce and surrendered to our rear-guard. They supposed they were cut off and surrounded. The Jeff Davis legion was the rear-guard, and these were the only enemies they saw.

The despatch to Stanton shows the bewildered state of McClellan's mind. At the time he was writing it we were lying on the banks of the Chickahominy, building a bridge to cross on. To have caught us, it was not necessary to pursue at all; all that he had to do was to spread his wings. We halted at Tunstall's long enough for the column to close up. Our march was slow, the artillery horses had broken down, and we were encumbered with a large number of prisoners on foot, and of course we could march no faster than they did. After dark the column moved down through New Kent towards the Chickahominy. On the road were large encampments of army wagons. Many a sutler was ruined that night; with sad hearts they fell into line with the prisoners, and saw their wagons, with their contents, vanish in flames. The heavens were lurid with the light reflected from the burning trains, and our track was as brilliant as the tail of a comet.

The Count of Paris, who was on McClellan's staff, thus describes Stuart's march: "But night had come, and the fires kindled by his hand flashing above the forest were so many signals which drew the Federals on his track." Now, the Count of Paris evidently means that the glowing sky ought to have been a guide to the Federal generals as the pillar of fire was to Moses. As a fact, the only pursuers we saw were those who came after us to surrender under a flag of truce. Stuart halted three hours at Baltimore Store, only five miles from Tunstall's. At twelve o'clock he started again for a ford of the Chickahominy, which was eight miles distant, and reached it about daylight.

That summer night was a carnival of fun I can never forget. Nobody thought of danger or of sleep, when champagne bottles were bursting, and Rhine wine was flowing in copious streams. All had perfect confidence in their leader. In the riot among the sutlers' stores "grim-visaged war had smoothed his wrinkled front," and Mars resigned his sceptre to the jolly god. The discipline of soldiers for a while gave way to the wild revelry of the crew of Comus. During all of this time General Emory was a few miles off, at Tunstall's Station, hunting our tracks in the sand with a lighted candle. Stuart had expected to ford the Chickahominy; but when we got there, it was found overflowing from the recent rains, and impassable. Up to this point our progress had been as easy as the descent to Avernus; but now, to get over the river, hic labor, hic opus est. He was fortunate in having two guides, Christian and Frayser, who lived in the neighborhood, and knew all the roads and fords on the river. Christian knew of a bridge, or rather, where a bridge had been, about a mile below the ford, and the column was immediately headed for it. But it had been destroyed, and nothing was left but some of the piles standing in the water. He was again fortunate in having two men, Burke and Hagan, who knew something about bridge-building. Near by were the remains of an old warehouse, out of which they built a bridge. It was marvellous with what rapidity the structure grew; in a few hours it was finished—it seemed almost by magic. It was not as good a bridge as CÆsar threw over the Rhine, but it was good enough for our purpose. While the men were at work upon it, Stuart was lying down on the bank of the stream, in the gayest humor I ever saw him, laughing at the prank he had played on McClellan.

As I was a believer in the Napoleonic maxim of making war support war, I had foraged extensively during the night, and from the sutlers' stores spread a feast that Epicurus might have envied. During all the long hours that we lay on the bank of the river waiting for the bridge, no enemy appeared in sight. That was a mystery nobody could understand. There was some apprehension that McClellan was allowing us to cross over in order to entrap us in the forks of the Chickahominy. When, at last, about two o'clock, the cavalry, artillery, prisoners and captured horses and mules were all over, and fire had been set to the bridge, some of Rush's lancers came on a hill and took a farewell look at us. They came, and saw, and went away, taking as their only trophy a drunken Dutchman we had left on the road. General Emory received news of the crossing eight miles off at Baltimore Store. Our escape over the river was immediately reported to him. In his official report, he says that we crossed the Chickahominy at daylight and that we left faster than we came. Now, I am unable to see the evidence of any particular haste in the march: in fact, it seems to have been conducted very leisurely. About one o'clock P.M., on the 13th, we captured Royall's camp at Old Church; about sunset we reached Tunstall's, nine miles distant, and at daylight on the 14th got to a point on the Chickahominy twelve miles from there, where we stayed until noon. So if we had been pursued at the rate of a mile an hour, we would have been overtaken.

But the danger was not over when we were over the Chickahominy. We were still thirty-five miles from Richmond and in the rear of McClellan's army, which was five or six miles above us. It was necessary to pass through swamps where the horses sunk to their saddle girths, and when we emerged from these, we had to go for twenty miles on a road in full view of the enemy's gunboats on one side of us in the James River, and McClellan's army within a few miles on the other. Nothing would have been easier than for him to have thrown a division of infantry as well as cavalry across our path. Then nothing could have saved us except such a miracle as destroyed Pharaoh and his host. Stuart, apprehending a movement on McClellan's left, had sent a messenger early in the morning to General Lee requesting him to make a diversion in his favor. But we were out of danger before he had time to do it. After getting through the swamp the command halted in Charles City for several hours to give rest to the men and horses. Stuart then turned over the command to Fitz Lee, as we were then in comparative safety, and with two men rode on to General Lee's headquarters, which he reached about daybreak the next morning. During the night march I was in advance of the column, but saw nothing in the path except occasionally a negro who would dart across it going into the Union lines. Early in the morning, just as I got in sight of Richmond, I met Stuart returning to the command. Although he had been in the saddle two days and nights without sleep, he was as gay as a lark and showed no signs of weariness. He had a right to be proud; for he had performed a feat that to this day has no parallel in the annals of war. I said to him, "This will make you a major-general." He said, "No, I don't think I can be a major-general until we have 10,000 cavalry." But in six weeks he had that rank.

This expedition, in which Stuart had ridden around McClellan in a circle of a radius of ten miles, created almost as much astonishment in Richmond and even in Europe as if he had dropped from the clouds, and made him the hero of the army. It had an electric effect on the morale of the Confederate troops and excited their enthusiasm to a high pitch. Always after that the sight of Stuart on the field was like

McClellan attempts in his report to belittle it, by saying that in this affair Stuart's cavalry did nothing but gain a little Éclat; but with more truth it might be said that by it he lost a good deal. His staff officer, the Count of Paris, says, in reference to these operations of our cavalry: "They had, in point of fact, created a great commotion, shaken the confidence of the North in McClellan, and made the first experiment in those great cavalry expeditions which subsequently played so novel and so important a part during the war."

At midnight, on June 14, at the very hour when we were marching along his left flank, McClellan telegraphed to Stanton, "All quiet in every direction; the stampede of last night has passed away." In his telegram six hours before, he had said that we ran away from an infantry force, at Tunstall's, that he had sent after us. The fact was that we left that place long before the infantry arrived there, and never heard of it until long after we left. Gen. Reynolds says he never saw us. The stampede that McClellan talks about was not in our ranks. The Count of Paris again says: "As soon as he [Stuart] was known to be at Tunstall's, McClellan had divined his purpose, and despatched Averill to intercept him."

I have made a diligent examination of the archives of the war, but have been unable to find any authority for this statement. The despatches of the general-in-chief, the corps, division, brigade, and regimental commanders, in reference to this raid, have all been published, besides the report of Col. Clitz, who was ordered to investigate the conduct of those who were charged with the pursuit. They all relate to the operations on McClellan's right, and there is perfect silence as to any attempt to intercept us on his left, or any order to do so. Averill, who was stationed with the cavalry on the left flank, is nowhere mentioned, and there is no report from him. After we crossed the Chickahominy we were in a cul de sac, formed by the junction of that river with the James. Yet we never saw an enemy in that vicinity, although they must or ought to have had twenty-four hours' notice that we were coming, as the army headquarters were connected with each corps by both telegraph lines and signal stations.

As McClellan was very much criticised for permitting Stuart to escape, if it had been due to the failure of Averill or any one else to execute his orders, he would have put the blame where it belonged. McClellan's conduct on this occasion has always been unaccountable to me, and the only explanation I have ever seen of it is in the report of Gen. Pleasanton, who soon after that became his chief of cavalry. Pleasanton says: "McClellan dreaded the rebel cavalry, and supposed that by placing his army on a peninsula, with a deep river on each side, he was safe from that arm of the enemy; but the humiliation on the Chickahominy, of having a few thousand of the enemy's cavalry ride completely around his army, and the ignominious retreat to Harrison's Landing, are additional instances in support of the maxim 'that a general who disregards the rules of war finds himself overwhelmed by the consequences of such neglect, when the crisis of battle follows.'"28

At that time Pleasanton was commanding the 2d U.S. Cavalry. The telegraph line at Tunstall's was repaired soon after Reynolds arrived, on the night of the 13th; and it is impossible to believe that he and Ingalls did not inform the general-in-chief which way we had gone. Stuart then had no choice of routes, but was confined to the road up James River, or not to return at all. This raid is unique, and distinguished from all others on either side during the war, on account of the narrow limits in which the cavalry was compelled to operate. From the time when he broke through McClellan's line on his right until he had passed around him on his left Stuart was enclosed by three unfordable rivers, over one of which he had to build a bridge to cross. During the whole operation the cavalry never drew a sabre except at the first picket post they encountered. But it was something more than a mere raid on McClellan's communications; it was, in fact, a reconnoissance in force to ascertain the exact location of the different corps of his army, and the prelude to the great battles that began ten days afterwards, in which Jackson's flank was covered by Stuart's cavalry.29

The seven days' battles were fought behind intrenchments, and in swamps which afforded no opportunity for the use of cavalry except in guarding the flanks of the infantry and the minor operations of outpost duty. When they were over, the cavalry had a short respite from labor. I never could rest inactive; and so I asked Stuart to let me take a party of men to northern Virginia.

Gen. Pope had then just assumed command of that department. He had a long line of communications to guard; and his scattered army corps offered fine opportunities for partisan war. The wiser policy of concentration had not then been adopted by the Federal generals. Stuart was recruiting his cavalry, and was not willing to spare any for detached service; but gave me a letter of introduction to Gen. Jackson, who had been sent up to Gordonsville to observe Pope. He sent him by me a copy of Napoleon's maxims, which had just been published in Richmond. Stuart wanted Jackson to furnish a detail of cavalry to go with me behind Pope, who had just published the fact to the world that he intended to leave his rear to take care of itself. With a single companion, and full of enthusiasm, I started on my mission to Jackson. I concluded to take the cars at Beaver Dam and go on in advance to his headquarters and wait there for my horse to be led on. I was sitting in the depot, and my companion had hardly got out of sight, when a regiment of Union cavalry rode up, and put an attachment upon my person. They had ridden all night from Fredericksburg to capture the train which was due in a few minutes. I was chagrined, not only at being a prisoner, but because my cherished hopes were now disappointed. The regiment fronted into a line to wait for the cars; and they placed me in the front rank. I called to an officer, and protested against being put where I would be shot by the guard on the train. For some reason, the commanding officer gave orders to leave; perhaps it was because he was as much opposed to being shot as I was. The train soon afterwards arrived; and I do not think there were any soldiers on it. That night, I slept on the floor of the guard-house at Fredericksburg; on the next day the cartel for the exchange of prisoners was agreed on. My imprisonment lasted ten days; and I confess that I rather enjoyed my visit to Washington. I kept up my habits as a scout, and collected a large budget of information. The steamer on which I came back lay four days in Hampton Roads, and then proceeded up James River. When we first arrived there I noticed a large number of transports, with troops on board, lying near Newport News, and learned that they belonged to Burnside's corps just arrived from North Carolina. Here, now, was a problem for me to solve. Where were they going? to reinforce Pope or McClellan? I set about to find out. If they went to Pope it meant the withdrawal of McClellan. The captain of the steamer promised me to find out their destination. A few hours before we left, I observed them all coming down and passing out by Fort Monroe. When the captain returned from on shore, he told me that the transports were going up the Potomac. This settled the question; the Peninsula campaign was over.

About ten o'clock in the morning we reached the point on James River where the commissioners had met. I knew that it would take several hours to complete the exchange and every minute then was precious. I whispered to the Confederate commissioner—Judge Culd—that I had important news for General Lee and he let me go immediately. I started off with a haversack full of lemons I had bought at Fort Monroe to walk twelve miles to headquarters on a hot day in August. I trudged on several hours weary and footsore, until completely exhausted I had fallen down on the roadside. While lying there a horseman of the Hampton Legion came riding by, and I stopped him and explained my condition and anxiety to see General Lee. He dismounted, put me on his horse, took me to his camp near by, and, getting a horse for himself, went with me to the general's headquarters. I wish that I knew his name that I might record it with the praise that is due to his generous deed. The first one I met at headquarters, with a good deal of the insolence of office, told me that I could not see the general. I tried to explain that I did not come to ask a favor, but to bring him important information. Another one of the staff standing by told me to wait a moment. He stepped into the adjoining room and soon called me in. I now found myself for the first time in the presence of the great commander of the Army of Northern Virginia. He was alone and poring over some maps on the table, and no doubt planning a new campaign. Although his manner was gentle and kind, I felt for him an awe and veneration which I have never felt for any other man. He was then the foremost man in all the world, and I almost imagined that I saw one of the Homeric heroes before me. With some embarrassment I told what I had learned about Burnside's troops. He listened attentively, and after I was through called to a staff officer to have a man ready to take a despatch to General Jackson. At that time communication was kept up between them by a line of relay couriers. They were afraid to trust the telegraph that had been tampered with by raiding parties from Fredericksburg. Jackson received the despatch that night informing him that Burnside was on his way to Pope, and hastened to strike him at Cedar Mountain before reinforcements could arrive. Pope says, "This battle was fought at a distance of more than one hundred miles from Richmond, only five days after General McClellan received his orders to withdraw and five days before he had commenced to do so, or had embarked a man." When the Army of the Potomac was being withdrawn from the front of Richmond, Gen. Lee began to transfer his own to the line of the Rapidan. Stuart, with his staff, came ahead by rail and left Fitz Lee to bring on the cavalry division. I joined him on the evening of August 17th, and that night we rode to a place called Vidiersville in Orange County, where we expected to find the cavalry. It had not, however, come up, and Stuart sent his adjutant to look for it, and the rest of us—five in number—unsaddled our horses and lay down to sleep on the porch of a house by the roadside. We were outside our picket lines and in a mile or so of the enemy on the river, but did not think there was much risk in spending the night there.

About sunrise the next morning a young man named Gibson, who had been a fellow-prisoner with me in the Old Capitol, woke me up and said that he heard the tramp of cavalry down the road. We saddled quickly, and started to see what it was, but first woke Stuart up. As Fitz Lee was due, we supposed it was our own cavalry, but there was a chance that it might be the enemy, and we did not want to be again caught napping. After going about two hundred yards, we saw through the morning mist a body of cavalry that had stopped at a house to search it. We halted, but could not tell who they were. Presently two officers rode forward and began firing on us. This convinced me that they were no friends of mine, and as neither one of us had a pistol or a sabre, I am not ashamed to say that we turned and ran away with the Yankee cavalry close after us. The firing saved Stuart. He had walked out into the yard bareheaded, and when he heard it, mounted his horse and leaped over the fence, and escaped through the back yard with one of his aides just as Gibson and I passed by at full speed. The cavalry stopped the pursuit to pick up Stuart's hat and cloak and the nice patent-leather haversack I had brought from Washington, which we had left on the porch. It was a scouting party General Pope had sent out. They had caught Stuart's adjutant during the night and found on him a letter from General Lee, disclosing the fact that he would cross the river to attack Pope on the 20th. So Pope, on the 18th, issued orders to withdraw beyond the line of the Rappahannock; he had already received information through a spy that our whole army was assembling in his front and was about retreating anyway. If the cavalry had not stopped at the house they would have caught us all asleep.

Von Borcke, a Prussian officer on Stuart's staff, who published a mass of fables, under the title of "Memoirs of the Confederate War," gives an account of this affair, in which he represents himself as playing a most heroic part. As Gibson and I were between him and the enemy, and running with all our might, it is hard to discover any heroism in anybody. Von Borcke's horse ran faster than ours, and that was the only distinction he won. The chase was soon over, and we returned immediately to look over the ground. Just as Stuart got in sight of the house, he saw the enemy going off in triumph with his hat and cloak. In two days the armies were again confronting each other on the Rappahannock; on the morning of the 22d the Confederate column began a movement up the river to turn Pope's right. Jackson's corps was just in rear of the cavalry. When we got to Waterloo bridge, where we crossed, Stuart galloped by, and said to me, laughing, as he passed, "I am going after my hat." I had no idea then that what he said would come true. He had heard that Pope had his wagon trains parked at Catlett's, on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, and was going after them. Pope's headquarters were ten or twelve miles distant, at Rappahannock Station. Stuart had with him about 1500 cavalry and two pieces of artillery. We passed around to Pope's rear unobserved, and got to Catlett's just after dark. A picket post on the road was captured without any alarm, and the guards with the trains had no suspicion of our presence until we rode into their camp. General Pope unjustly censures them. Considering the surprise, I think they did remarkably well. It was no fault of theirs that Stuart had got to the rear of their army without being discovered. It was the duty of their cavalry on the front to watch him, and tell them he was coming. Fortunately for Pope, the most terrific storm I ever saw came up before we reached Catlett's. But for that, nearly the whole of the transportation of his army would have been destroyed. The night was pitch dark and the rain fell in torrents. Flashes of lightning would often illuminate the scene, and peals of thunder seemed to roll from pole to pole. Stuart halted about half a mile from the station, and sent the First and Fifth Virginia cavalry to destroy a large park of wagons whose camp-fires could be seen. I went along with my old regiment. We had to cross a railroad embankment and a ditch, of which the men knew nothing until they tumbled into it. Most of them scrambled out, and got into the camp on the other side. It was defended by the Bucktails, who, under cover of the wagons and the darkness, poured a hot fire into us. All that we could see was the flashes from their guns. The animals became frightened, and increased the noise and confusion of the fight. The shooting and shouting of the men, the braying of the mules, the glare of the lightning and roll of the thunder, made it seem like all Pandemonium had broken loose.

But cavalry, in a fight against invisible infantry, is defenceless. We left the camp with little or no damage to ourselves or the enemy. Other detachments were more successful in burning wagons and making captures. A party was sent to burn the railroad bridge over Cedar Run; but in such a storm they might just as well have tried to burn the creek. It happened that not far from Catlett's we met a negro in the road, who recognized Stuart as an old acquaintance, and offered to conduct him to Pope's headquarter wagons. The Ninth Virginia cavalry was sent with the guide after them. A festive party of quartermasters and commissaries was captured there, together with Pope's money-chest, despatch book, and correspondence, and also his wardrobe, including his hat and ostrich plume. Stuart was now revenged—he had swapped hats with Pope.

The material results of the expedition were not what had been expected. The storm of that night—which caused a rise of six feet in the river—was the salvation of Pope. The raid had, however, a demoralizing effect on the army whose communication had been so audaciously assailed. Von Borcke, as usual, relates prodigies he performed that were never surpassed by Amadis of Gaul. He says that he was detailed by Stuart to capture Pope, and tells how he entered his tent shortly after he had left. Now Pope had never been on the spot; his headquarters were then fifteen miles from there; and Stuart knew that a general commanding an army does not sleep with his wagon trains. We returned the next morning by the same route we came, but never saw an enemy. It would be a natural question to ask—what was Pope doing with his cavalry? In the storm and darkness we had failed to cut the telegraph wire, so Pope kept up communication with Washington. At five o'clock P.M. that day—when Stuart's cavalry was in the rear and within a few miles of Catlett's, he told Halleck, "The enemy has made no attempt to-day to cross the river." At nine o'clock that night, when we were plundering his headquarter trains, he tells Halleck a heavy force had crossed the river that day, and asked him to send up a brigade to guard the bridge over Cedar Run. But for the providential rain the bridge would have then been burning, and Halleck would have been saved the trouble of sending infantry to protect it. Pope had no idea where we were. Fifteen minutes later, he tells Halleck, that he must either fall back behind Cedar Run, or cross the Rappahannock at daybreak the next morning and assail the rear of the Confederate army. Halleck advised the latter movement. Pope said the rise of the river that night that swept away his bridges prevented his crossing. Here Providence stepped in again and saved him. If the "stars in their courses fought against Sisera," so did the floods against Robert E. Lee in this campaign.

At that time Jackson and Longstreet were in front of Pope, and Stuart was behind him. A week after this he was defeated, when we were no stronger and he had received at least 25,000 reinforcements from McClellan. But General Pope had left out an important factor in his calculation,—and that was Stonewall Jackson. He had already thrown one of his brigades over the river at Sulphur Springs, but the storm arrested the passage of the others. If General Pope had attempted such a movement as he indicated to Halleck, General Lee would not have interfered with it but let him go on. Jackson and Stuart would then have swept down the north bank of the river in his rear, and General Pope would have found himself in the condition of a fly in an exhausted receiver. This would have saved Jackson the long flank march he afterwards made to Manassas without involving his separation from Longstreet. Speaking of the raid on Catlett's, General Pope says: "At the time this cavalry force attacked Catlett's—and it certainly was not more than three hundred strong—our whole army trains were parked at that place, and were guarded by not less than 1500 infantry and five companies of cavalry. The success of this small party of the enemy, although very trifling and attended with but very little damage, was most disgraceful to the force that had been left in charge of the trains." It was certainly not the fault of the troops guarding the trains that they had no notice that we were coming; and I think he has greatly exaggerated their number.

On the 25th, Jackson, having gone higher up the river, crossed the Rappahannock four miles above Waterloo Bridge, which was held by Sigel's Corps and Buford's Cavalry. The Black Horse Company30 acted as his escort, and the Second Virginia Cavalry led the advance. The signal stations near the rivers reported this movement immediately to Gen. Pope. An officer in the army under Pope, who had been a classmate of Jackson's at West Point, thus speaks of the great hero and his wonderful march: "In that devotion which men yield to monarchs of the battle-field; in that glow of pride which men share with the great chieftain whose powers have created chances and directed results,—the soldier subjects under Napoleon Bonaparte were closely allied in enthusiasm, in worship, and in admiration with the soldier citizens under Stonewall Jackson."…

"The sun sank down; the stars appeared; the night sped on till nearly twelve, when Jackson's advance had approached within one mile of Salem, where, as his weary column sank down to rest, McDowell received the message that Pope believed the enemy was marching for the Shenandoah Valley by way of Front Royal and Luray."

On the mathematical principle that parallel lines meet in infinity, Jackson might have reached the valley by the route he had travelled. His camp that night was in Pope's rear, and in twelve miles of McDowell, who was occupying Warrenton. But Gen. Pope was bewildered, and appeared to have no suspicion of where he was going. At daylight no reveille sounded in the Confederate camps; but Jackson moved silently on, and turned to the east. After his column had passed out of sight of the signal stations, Gen. Pope seemed to lose entirely the touch of it; but the "lost Pleiad" kept on its way. A competent general would have struck Jackson's flank with a cavalry reconnoissance on his first day's march. I do not know whether the failure to do so was the fault of the chief of cavalry or the commander-in-chief.

On the 26th, before daylight, Stuart's cavalry corps crossed the Rappahannock and followed the route Jackson had taken the day before, until it got to Salem, and then turned to the right. About four o'clock P.M., we overtook Gen. Jackson at Gainesville; having marched all day around the flank and rear of the Federal army without seeing an enemy. We were now within about seven miles of Manassas Junction. On the same day, Longstreet followed on Jackson's track. While all this was going on in his rear, Gen. Pope's attention had been attracted by some Confederate batteries that kept up a fire in his front. His army remained motionless. Its very tranquillity at last became oppressive; some feared that it was the awful stillness that precedes the storm; that he was imitating Napoleon at Austerlitz, and allowing one wing of our army to be extended in order to pierce its centre and destroy it. About six o'clock on the afternoon of the 26th, the advance of Jackson's column, under Col. Munford, struck the Orange & Alexandria Railroad at Bristoe Station, nine miles from Pope's headquarters, which were at Warrenton Junction. The small guard was surprised and captured; they had no more expectation of seeing Stonewall Jackson than Hamlet's ghost. Just then a train came up, and ran the gauntlet under fire, that carried the astounding news to Manassas, five miles off. From there it was telegraphed to Washington. Two more trains came along in a few minutes, that had just left headquarters, and were caught. Stuart was then sent on with a force of infantry and cavalry to capture Manassas, which, with all its immense stores, fell into his hands. Twenty thousand Confederate troops were now behind Gen. Pope; and Longstreet was marching around his flank; but his army still faced the other way. As Gen. Jackson says, "My command was now in the rear of Gen. Pope's army, separating it from the Federal capital and base of supplies."

This march of Jackson's I regard as one of the most wonderful things ever achieved in war. Gen. Pope says that it "was plainly seen and promptly reported to Gen. Halleck," but that so confidently did he rely on troops promised from Washington being in position to oppose Jackson that it gave him no uneasiness. That it gave Gen. Pope no uneasiness, I think is due to the fact that he knew nothing about it. It certainly would have given Napoleon or Wellington a good deal of uneasiness to have had Stonewall Jackson with 20,000 men in his rear and in nine miles of his headquarters. Now, it seems to me that his knowledge of what Jackson was doing cannot be reconciled with fidelity to his government, and his contemporaneous despatches and conduct. They can only be explained on the theory of his ignorance of the movement, or his co-operation with Jackson. The night before he had told McDowell that he believed the Confederate troops had gone to the Shenandoah valley. Jackson, I know, did marvellous things; but Gen. Pope could hardly have thought he could march an army east and west at the same time. If he knew that Jackson was going to Manassas, he could not have believed that he had gone to the valley. Admitting that he thought Franklin's corps was at Manassas to meet him, he would be a curious commander-in-chief not to inquire if it was or not to give his subordinate warning of the enemy's approach, in order that he might get ready to fight, or burn his stores and run away. If he had even called the telegraph operators at Bristoe and Manassas, they could have told him that there were just enough troops there to get caught, and that they knew nothing of Jackson's coming. He tells McDowell, after Jackson got to Bristoe, that the enemy's cavalry have interrupted communication with Manassas, and orders a single regiment to go down on the cars to repair the damage. Did he think one regiment could drive Stonewall Jackson away?

The next morning Halleck sends up a brigade to Manassas, that was almost annihilated,—its commander killed, and the train captured on which they came. If Halleck had known he was sending them into the jaws of death, he would have incurred a criminal responsibility. All of General Pope's orders and despatches at the time have been published; there is not a hint in any of them that he knew of Jackson's movement around him. The first time he suspected it was when the telegraph wire was cut, and he had to stop talking with Halleck. Three hours after that, McDowell telegraphs to Pope that an intelligent negro had just come in and reported that Jackson had passed through Thoroughfare Gap that day. Pope's answer shows that this news was a revelation and a surprise to him.

At that time Jackson's men, after a march of over fifty miles in two days, were eating his rations in sight of the blazing bridges and railroad trains at Manassas. The next day a cavalry reconnoissance under Buford was ordered to Salem, to ascertain the truth of the negro's statement. If it had been sent two days earlier it might have done some good. But Pope did not wait to hear from Buford, but changed front and hastened towards Manassas to recover his communications. Buford returned with his broken-down cavalry to Warrenton that night, but Pope's whole army had gone. During that day Jackson's wearied soldiers were resting and refreshing themselves from their abundant spoils. At night Jackson marched away towards Thoroughfare to unite with Longstreet. The supplies that he could not transport were burned. Pope's army with the railroad broken was now in a starving condition.31 To lead Pope astray, A. P. Hill's division was sent a roundabout way by Centreville and rejoined Jackson the next day at Sudley.

The reason that Jackson left Manassas was that Stuart had captured a despatch showing that Pope was concentrating his army on that point. General Jackson says: "General Stuart kept me advised of the movements of the enemy." In a despatch to Fitz John Porter on the evening of the 27th, Pope ordered him to be at Bristoe at daylight the next morning to bag Jackson who was then five miles off. General Pope says that Jackson made a mistake in leaving Manassas before he got there. If Jackson went there to be caught it was. If Pope had reached the place at daylight he would have found nothing but a rear-guard of Stuart's cavalry. He has censured Porter for not getting there in time to bag Jackson. Pope himself arrived about noon. It happened that the evening before I rode off to a farmer's house to get some supper and slept under a tree in the yard. The next morning I returned to the Junction thinking our army was still there. I found the place deserted and as silent as the cities of the plain. So, if General Pope and Fitz John Porter had come at that time they might have caught me, that is, if their horses were faster than mine. Pope was deceived by Jackson's stratagem and marched off to Centreville to find him. Every step he took in that direction carried him farther from Jackson. He seemed to be groping in the dark. Instead of marching his infantry off in the morning on a fool's errand to Manassas in search of Jackson he ought first to have felt the enemy with his cavalry, and then manoeuvred his army so as to intercept his junction with Longstreet. Pope did exactly the reverse.

On the evening of the 28th, Longstreet drove Ricketts' division from Thoroughfare and the head of his column bivouacked in about six miles of Jackson. During the fight I rode with Stuart towards the Gap.

As Ricketts was then between him and Longstreet, Stuart sent a despatch by a trusty messenger urging him to press on to the support of Jackson.

I do not think any other commander ever performed such a feat, or extricated himself from such perils as environed Jackson on this expedition. His success was largely due to Stuart's cavalry, who were the eyes of the army, that brought him quick intelligence of the enemy, and as the Count of Paris says, "screened all Jackson's movements as with an impenetrable veil." On the morning of the 29th, in a despatch to Porter and McDowell, Gen. Pope says: "The indications are that the whole force of the enemy is moving in this direction at a pace that will bring them here by to-morrow night or next morning." His cavalry could not then have informed him of the result of the combat between Longstreet and Ricketts on the afternoon before; for it was impossible for him to believe that the man who was called the war-horse of the Southern Army would take two days to march six miles with the thunders of battle rolling in his ears. General Pope does not seem to have recovered his mental equilibrium when he wrote his report, for he says, in one place, "Every indication during the night of the 29th and up to 10 o'clock on the morning of the 30th pointed to the retreat of the enemy from our front;" and further on he says, "During the whole night of the 29th and the morning of the 30th the advance of the main army under Lee was arriving on the field to reinforce Jackson." That is, the arrival of 30,000 fresh Confederate troops on the field was a sign to Gen. Pope that they were running away.

No one can study this campaign without being struck by the marked difference between the commanders of the two armies in the employment of their cavalry. A distinguished general who served under Pope says: "That judicious use of cavalry by which Jackson covered his front, concealed his movements, discovered his enemies, and succeeded in his raids, had not at that period been generally appreciated by Federal commanders, and was almost entirely neglected by Pope."

I cannot close this account of the part borne by Stuart's cavalry in this campaign without some reference to the use that has been made of his report of it by the partisans of General Pope, and the criticism it has borne from the friends of General Porter. It is remarkable that both parties should agree in the construction put upon it, and that so clearly a wrong one. One side refers to it to prove the assertion of General Pope: "I believe—in fact I am positive—that at five o'clock on the afternoon of the 29th General Porter had in his front no considerable body of the enemy. I believed then—as I am very sure now—that it was easily practicable for him to have turned the right flank of Jackson and to have fallen on his rear: and if he had done so, we should have gained a decisive victory over the army under Jackson before he could have been joined by any of the forces of Longstreet," etc. He further says that about sunset of the 29th the advance of Longstreet began to arrive on the field. The essence of the controversy is the time of Longstreet's arrival. Could Porter have reached Gainesville, the objective point on which he and Longstreet marched that day, in time to have executed the order of 4.30 P.M. of the 29th to turn the Confederate flank? While the order does not specify Jackson's, but says the enemy's flank, it clearly referred to Jackson, for General Pope asserted that Longstreet was not then on the field and could not arrive before the next day. As Porter and Longstreet had camped the night before about the same distance from that place, and as Porter,32 owing to contradictory orders, had marched twice the distance that Longstreet did, the presumption is that the latter arrived there first.

To my mind Stuart is a conclusive witness for Porter. Yet one critic (General Cox) argues that there was no obstruction but Stuart's cavalry between Porter and Jackson, and an author of a defence of Porter (General George H. Gordon) calls his report a romance. Stuart says that General Lee arrived at Gainesville on the morning of the 29th with Longstreet's corps; that he passed his cavalry through Longstreet's column and placed it on his flank; that during the day his videttes reported the approach of Porter's corps; and that he sent notice of it to General Lee, who ordered infantry and artillery to his support. He adds that in the mean time he kept his cavalry dragging brush to raise a dust, and that the ruse had the desired effect of deceiving Porter. As Stuart was recovering Longstreet's flank he would be close to it. Now the object he had in dragging the brush was to deceive Porter as to the force with which he was in immediate contact. His saying that Porter was deceived by it was the mere expression of his opinion—not the statement of a fact. Stuart's object was to gain time enough for Longstreet (not Jackson) to readjust his line to meet a threatened attack on his flank. That was all. If Porter saw a heavy cloud of dust rising in the road before him, he could not tell, without halting his column and reconnoitring, what created it. But the delay involved in doing this was all that Stuart wanted. Longstreet had been in the same dilemma at Salem two days before; when he reached there he met Buford's cavalry. If he had known that nothing else was in front of him, he would have brushed them away with a few skirmishers without losing a minute on his march. But he halted his column, he says, and was detained an hour before he could find out what it was. Pope was deceived by a few shells the Confederates threw at him across the Rappahannock into the belief that our army was in his front when in fact it was in his rear. The divine genius has never yet appeared in war that could always at a glance detect every stratagem and see through every mask. "He who wars," says Napier, "walks in a mist through which the keenest eye cannot always discern the right path."