1. I.
I NEVER pass the little village of Verdiersville, on the road
from Orange Court-House to Chancellorsville, without casting a
glance upon a small house—the first upon the right as you enter
the hamlet from the west.
There is nothing remarkable in the appearance of this house;
and unless some especial circumstance directed to it your attention,
you would pass it by completely without notice. A small
wooden mansion, such as every village contains; a modest, rather
dilapidated porch; a contracted yard in front, and an ordinary
fence of narrow palings, through which a narrow gate gives
access to the road—there is the whole. Now why should this
most commonplace and uninteresting of objects cause the present
writer, whenever he passes it, and however weary he may be, to
turn his horse's head in the direction of the little gate, pause on
his way, and remain for some moments gazing in silence at the
dilapidated porch, the tumble-down fence, and the narrow gateway,
yawning now wide open, gateless? Because the sight of
this house recalls a scene of which it was the theatre about three
years ago—that is to say in August, 1862. It was here that
Stuart had one of those narrow escapes which were by no means
unusual in his adventurous career, and which will make his
life, when time has mellowed the events of this epoch, the chosen
subject of those writers dealing in the romance of war.
Ah! those “romances of the war!” The trifling species will
come first, in which the Southern leaders will be made to talk an
incredible gibberish, and figure in the most tremendous adventures.
We shall then see, my dear reader, the august form of
Lee, dressed in that splendid new uniform which he always wore,
riding that swift Arabian, blazing with his golden caparison, and
exclaiming, “Behold yonder battery, my men! Charge on it!
Sweep the foeman from your path!” The gay and elegant form
of Stonewall Jackson will be seen as he leads his cavalry, and
swears in the charge; Stuart will give his cautious counsel to fall
back; and we shall have, in the yellow-covered pamphlets, a
truthful picture of the war. But then will come the better order
of things, when writers like Walter Scott will conscientiously
collect the real facts, and make some new “Waverley” or
“Legend of Montrose.” For these, and not for the former class,
I propose to set down here an incident in the life of the great
commander of the Southern cavalry, of which he told me all the
particulars, for I was not present.
It was about the middle of August, 1862, and Jackson, after
deciding the fate of the day at Cold Harbour, and defeating
General Pope at Cedar Mountain, was about to make his great
advance upon Manassas with the remainder of the army. In all
such movements Stuart's cavalry took its place upon the flanks,
and no sooner had the movement begun, than, leaving his headquarters
in the grassy yard of the old Hanover Court-House
where Patrick Henry made his famous speech against the parsons,
Stuart hastened to put his column in motion for the lower waters
of the Rapidan.
Such was the situation of affairs when the little incident I propose
to relate took place. Fitz Lee's brigade was ordered to
move by way of Verdiersville to Raccoon Ford, and take position
on Jackson's right; and General Stuart hastened forward, attended
only by a portion of his staff, toward Verdiersville, where
he expected to be speedily joined by “General Fitz.”
Stuart reached the little hamlet on the evening, I believe, of
the 16th of August, and selecting the small house which I have
described for his temporary headquarters, awaited the approach
of his column.
Half an hour, an hour passed, and nothing was heard of the
expected cavalry. General Stuart's position was by no means
a safe one, as the event showed. He was ten miles distant
from any succour in case of an attack. The country around
Verdiersville was known to be full of prowling detachments of
Federal cavalry; and the daring cavalier, upon whose skill and
energy so much depended at that crisis, might be quietly picked
up by some scouting party of the enemy, and carried as a rich
prize to General Pope. Stuart was, however, well accustomed
throughout his adventurous career to take such risks; they
even seemed to possess an irresistible charm to him, and he prepared
to spend the night, if necessary, in this exposed spot. He
accordingly tied his horse to the fence, the bridle having been
taken from his mouth to allow the animal to feed, spread his
gray riding-cape upon the porch of the little house, and prepared
to go to sleep. First, however, he called Major Fitz Hugh, of
his staff, and sent him back about a mile down the road to look
out for General Fitz Lee. The major was to go to the mouth of
the Richmond and Antioch Church road, await General Fitz's
arrival, and communicate further orders. Having arranged this,
Stuart lay down with his staff and they all went to sleep.
Let us now accompany Major Fitz Hugh, an old (though still
youthful and alert) cavalryman—used to scouting, reconnoitring,
and dealing generally with Federal cavalry. The major took
a courier with him, and riding down the road about a mile in
the direction of Chancellorsville, soon reached the mouth of the
Antioch Church road—a branch of that most devious, puzzling,
be wildering of all highways, the famed “Catharpin road.” Major
Fitz Hugh found at his stopping-place an old deserted house,
and as this house was a very good “picket post” from which
to observe the road by which General Fitz Lee must come, the
major came to a halt at the old rattle-trap—forlornest of abandoned
wayside inns—and there established his headquarters.
An hour, two hours passed—there was no sign of General Fitz;
and the major, who had ridden far and was weary, tied his handsome
sorrel near, directed the courier to keep a sharp look-out,
and, entering the house, lay down on the floor to take a short
nap.
Such resolutions, under such circumstances, generally end in
a good night's sleep. About daylight Major Fitz Hugh was
awakened by a noise of hoofs on the road without, and, rising,
he went to meet General Fitz Lee. The first circumstance which
induced him to change his views of the “situation” was the
sight of a swarm of blue-coated cavalrymen around the house,
one of whom had untied and was leading off in triumph his
glossy sorrel! A dozen others, who had arrived too late to
secure the prize, were uttering imprecations on their luck.
A glance took in the whole scene—Major Fitz Hugh found
himself surrounded by Federal cavalry, and a party soon burst
into the house, and, with pistols at his breast, ordered him to
surrender. The major was furious at this contretemps, and
glanced around for his weapons. He clutched his pistol and
cocked it; but his wrist was immediately seized, and an attempt
made to wrench the weapon from his grasp. The major retorted
by twisting his hand, and firing one or two barrels, but without
result. They then rushed upon him, threw him down; his arms
were wrested from him in a trice, and he was conducted to
the commanding officer of the force, at the head of his column
without.
The officer was a colonel, and asked Major Fitz Hugh a great
number of questions. He was evidently lost. The major
declined replying to any of them, and now his fears were painfully
excited for General Stuart. If the column should take
the direction of Verdiersville there was every reason to fear that
the General would be surprised and captured. Meanwhile Major
Fitz Hugh had taken a seat upon a fence, and as the column
began to move he was ordered to get up and walk. This he
declined doing, and the altercation was still proceeding, when
an officer passed and the major complained of having his horse
taken from him. “I am accustomed to ride, not to walk,” he
said; and this view of the subject seemed to impress the Federal
officer, who, either from courtesy or to secure a mounted guide,
had his horse brought and returned to him for the nonce. The
major mounted and rode to the front amid “There goes the
rebel major!” “Ain't he a fine dressed fellow?” “Don't he
ride proud?” sounds soothing and pleasant to the captured
major, who was dressed in a fine new roundabout with full gold
braid.
But his thoughts suddenly became far from pleasant. The
head of the cavalry column had turned toward Verdiersville, only
a mile distant, and General Stuart's danger was imminent. The
courier had also been captured; no warning of his peril could
be got to the General; and worse than all, he would doubtless
take the column for that of General Fitz Lee, which was to
come by this very road, and thus be thrown completely off his
guard. A more terrible contretemps could not have occurred
than the Major's capture, and he saw no earthly means of giving
the alarm. He was riding beside the colonel commanding, who
had sent for him, and was thus forced to witness, without taking
part in it, the scene about to be enacted.
