Memoirs of William Nelson Pendleton, D.D., rector of Latimer parish, Lexington, Virginia; brigadier-general c.s.a.; chief of artillery, army of northern Virginia. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. | CHAPTER XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
 | CHAPTER XLI. Memoirs of William Nelson Pendleton, D.D., |  |
CHAPTER XLI.
DEATH OF COLONEL SANDIE PENDLETON.
The extension of Lee's defensive line to face Grant's aggressive
movements on both sides of James River necessitated the
recall of Kershaw's division from the valley, which was followed
in a few days by the disastrous battle of Winchester on September
18. Early's force of eight thousand five hundred infantry
and less than three thousand cavalry was attacked by Sheridan
with more than three times their number. A panic seized a part
of the hardly-marched, weary, and worn Confederate force, and
an overwhelming defeat was the consequence. Early fell back
to Fisher's Hill, from whence he was again driven on the 22d.
Defeat and disgrace was something new to the officers and
men who had fought and marched and gained victory after victory
under General Jackson. In a desperate effort to rally a retreating
skirmish line on the evening of the 22d, Colonel Sandie
Pendleton received a mortal wound through the body, and had
to be left at Woodstock in the enemy's lines, where he died on
the 23d.
The career of this beloved son and gallant young officer has
been incidentally given in the preceding chapters of this memoir.
Endowed by nature with unusual powers of acquisition, a clear,
logical mind, and retentive memory, his mental attainments were
remarkable from childhood. Of a joyous, elastic disposition,
and a generous, ardent, but well-controlled temper, and a charming
courtesy of manner, he was everywhere popular among his
associates. The wise and watchful training of his father and
mother had not only been directed to his intellectual and moral
culture, but also to his healthy physical development, so that
man. The medallist of his class at Washington College in his
seventeenth year, he passed with honor the examinations for a
master's degree at the University of Virginia previous to joining
the army in 1861, after a two years' course and several months
before he was twenty-one years old. Stonewall Jackson, who
had known him as a boy in Lexington, appointed him on his
personal staff so soon as he joined the army in 1861. From
that time—first as ordnance officer and aide-de-camp and afterwards
as adjutant-general—he was intimately concerned in the
handling of the Second Corps of the Army of Northern
Virginia.
Of its long list of hard-fought battles that of Second Manassas
was the only one in which he was not engaged, being at that
time sick at home. This military training at head-quarters, added
to an intuitive knowledge of character and great personal courage,
soon made him a man of mark among his brother soldiers.
Three efforts to make him a brigadier-general were unsuccessful,
because he set aside his personal ambition to serve his country
where he believed he could be most useful.
It was the habit of General Jackson, when any question arose
as to the personal characteristics and capabilities of any individual
or body of men in his command, to refer the matter to
young Pendleton, saying, "Ask Captain Pendleton. If he don't
know, nobody does." On one occasion, when the tired adjutant
was summoned from his bed after midnight to decide whether a
suspicious person were an authorized scout or a spy, the general
added, "He is the only man I ever knew who always woke up
in a good humor." A fact which had been noted from his
cradle.
Having ratified his baptismal vows in confirmation at the age
of sixteen, he presented from that time the attractive character
of a sincere, active, earnest, healthy-minded young Christian.
His design before the war had been to enter the ministry, and he
frequently expressed his intention to carry out that purpose when
peace should return to his country.
How greatly beloved this noble young man was in his home
has been seen in the course of this narrative. The tidings of his
mortal wound came with crushing force. He had been so often
that he bore a charmed life and was destined to come off
unhurt. Information of his being shot and left behind by
Early's retreating army reached his sister, Mrs. Lee, in Staunton,
where she was with her husband. No amount of money or persuasion
could procure a conveyance to take her down the valley
to pass through both armies and minister to his dying hours.
She had therefore to remain in Staunton and communicate the
sorrowful intelligence to her mother, who reached there shortly
after the receipt of the telegram announcing her son's condition.
Mrs. Pendleton was on her way to Petersburg, where she had
been invited by General Pendleton's kind friends the Lynches to
come down and pay him a visit. Instead of continuing her
journey she returned at once to Lexington, accompanied by her
daughter, to carry the mournful story to the other sisters and
the anxious young wife. Language would fail to tell the sorrow
of the stricken household. And the anguish of each heart was
increased by the thought of the loving father cut off in camp
from home sympathy and consolation. How great and yet how
submissive was that father's grief extracts from his letter home
tell:
"My beloved Wife and Children all,—It has pleased God
to permit a heavy grief to fall upon us. Our dear Sandie, so
severely wounded and far away, where we not only cannot minister
to his comfort, but cannot learn of his actual condition.
"The uncertainty and suspense render the trial perhaps even
more distressing. From the weight on my own heart I can
judge somewhat what you all feel. But what precious mercy
we have along with the bitter sorrow! There is a perfectly wise
and kind Father watching over and ministering to our beloved in
his distant suffering, a sympathizing Friend and great Physician
attending unceasingly by his bed of pain, and a sustaining Comforter
ever with him to soothe his spirit with sweet influences of
peace. He is a child of God, a servant of Jesus, a partaker of
the Holy Ghost. It cannot but be well with him. . . . Oh, how
it extracts the bitterness from affliction to know that it is ordered
by our Almighty Father as part of His boundless plan of righteousness
bow under His dealings? 'Father, not my will, but thine, be
done.'
"To the mother's heart I speak first. God may take to Himself
our precious boy. Often as we have failed in our duty to
that dear child, the merciful and gracious Lord has enabled us
to rear him to be under grace an honor to us, a joy to his sisters,
a treasure to his wife, an ornament to society, and a Christian
hero in his country's service. It may be hard to give him up,
should it please the Master to take him to Himself, but shall we
murmur? Shall we so look upon earthly and perishable interests
as to grieve intensely over disappointment there, and fail to
appreciate the priceless blessing granted us in such a child, and
in the heavenly hopes we can cherish as we remember him?
My darling love, I have thought of this, our dear child, as if now
removed from us, with the precious little Robin we buried in his
infancy, and our sainted Lucy, transplanted, as an opening flower
in the sweetness of early bloom, to the garden of the Lord, with
them and with our mothers and others beloved in that home,
that presence, and that likeness where all are satisfied forever.
. . . If it be the Lord's will to take him, never will my heart
cease to feel the sorrow that on earth I shall see him no more,
but not then for an instant would I wish him back. . . . Would
that I could be with you all for a season now! . . . We must
wait in spirit together upon the Lord. I go back Monday
morning. Shall probably preach for Peterkin to-morrow."
This letter was written from Dr. Peterkin's, in Richmond, and
the resignation expressed in it was manifested to all around
him. The conversation turning upon his suspense as to his
son's condition, he said, after a pause, "I know he is in God's
hands. If He sees it to be best for him and best for us He will
restore him. But if He sees best He will take him to Himself.
Either way, God's will be done." He then left the room. Mrs.
Peterkin, struck with the peculiar tenderness on the part of the
young men on his staff towards General Pendleton, asked if they
had any certain information. "Yes," they said; "we know his
son is dead, but we cannot bear to tell him." Great sympathy
was evinced by all for his grief, and General Lee gave him a furlough
found some of his family buoyed up by a report that Colonel
Pendleton was not dead, but recovering. The false hope thus
cruelly encouraged was ere long proven to be unfounded, and the
mournful particulars of Colonel Pendleton's last hours communicated
to his wife and family by Mrs. Dr. Murphy, of Woodstock,
at whose house he died.
Multitudes of brave men met their death with unshaken fortitude,
but this dying soldier manifested also the submissive trust
and resignation we have seen his father exhibit. In the midst of
his intense suffering he frequently exclaimed, "It is God's will;
I am satisfied!" And when informed by the surgeon—his intimate
friend, Dr. Hunter McGuire—that his wound was mortal,
he insisted that the doctor should not remain with him in the
enemy's lines, but should fall back with the army, where he could
be of so much service. He then sent messages of love and consolation
to his wife, his parents and sisters, and other friends, expressing
for them and for himself absolute submission to God's
will. Mrs. Murphy and her daughters were untiring in their care
for him. The Federal surgeons proffered any aid in their power,
but he was beyond human help, and passed away on the evening
of September 23. On the 28th of the same month he would have
completed his twenty-fourth year. His body was laid in the
Lutheran graveyard in Woodstock, and his grave kept covered
with flowers until the latter part of October, when it was removed
to Lexington and buried in the cemetery there.
Whatever comfort sympathy and appreciation of the dead soldier
could give was lavished upon the sorrowing family. From
every quarter—from generals, officers, and privates, from citizens,
bereaved parents, and prisoners by flag of truce—came letters of
condolence. General Ewell in his to General Pendleton sent an
extract from his report of the Spottsylvania campaign:
"Lieutenant-General Jackson should be hardly less remarkable
for his brilliant campaigns than for the judgment he almost
invariably showed in his selections of men.
"It would be difficult, without personal knowledge, to appreciate
Colonel Pendleton's great gallantry, his coolness and clearness
of judgment under every trial, his soldier-like and cheerful
to recommend him to a vacant brigade, but he declined, thinking
his services more valuable on the staff."
General Pendleton returned to camp the middle of October.
During his absence the enemy had captured Fort Harrison on
the north side of James River, but had failed to take Fort Gilmer,
commanding the fortifications at Chaffin's Bluff. An effort to
extend his works on the left at Petersburg had also been defeated,
with severe loss. From this time, indeed, to the close of
the year there were only one or two important fights between the
two armies lying so close together, though there was continual
skirmishing and a gradual extension of the enveloping intrenchments.
The success of his general plan satisfied the Federal
commander-in-chief to rest in comparative quiet before Lee's
army, and leave Sherman and Thomas in the South and West,
and Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley, to carry out the part
committed to them,—desolating the country and cutting off any
possibility of supplies for Lee's army. Intercourse and aid from
the outside world was also to be prevented by the capture of
Fort Fisher, defending the harbor at Wilmington, North Carolina,
the only port remaining to the Southern Confederacy.
General J. E. Johnston in Georgia, having felt compelled to
fall back from place to place before Sherman's greatly superior
army, had been relieved from his command in July, and his army
turned over to General Hood. Hood, in his turn, was outnumbered
and utterly defeated by Thomas in Tennessee, while
Sherman's army, without let or hinderance, laid Georgia waste,
fulfilling literally the description of the Hebrew prophet, "The
land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a
desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them."[1]
Disaster after disaster also befell Early's command in the valley.
From the first it had been opposed to three or four times its
own numbers. The men were worn down with marching and
fighting, and destitute of the bare necessaries of life. Weary,
hungry, ragged, and foot-sore, we must not censure them too
severely for their eagerness to obtain the spoils of the Federal
routed the force stationed there. Nor is it surprising that, when
in their turn attacked, they became panic-stricken, and in their
headlong retreat lost guns, prisoners, arms, and, worse than all,
their self-confidence and prestige. After this victory Sheridan
proceeded to burn, devastate, and destroy everywhere with the
most ruthless hand, and when his barbarous work was done,
congratulated himself, his superior officer, and his country upon
his pitiless prowess. The future historian must class Sherman in
Georgia and Sheridan in Virginia with Turenne in the Palatinate,
and marvel that, with all the advancement of science and free
thought, the boasted civilization of the nineteenth century should
have given to the republic of the United States of America the
same brutal policy and relentless execution of vengeance as was
enforced by the French despotism two hundred years before.
Amidst all this disheartening defeat elsewhere the army at
Petersburg continued to maintain a dauntless front, though its
numbers were constantly depleted by sickness and the casualties
of battle, with no possibility of increase, its hardships and deprivations
ever becoming greater and greater, and its labors incessant
and exhausting.
Of the progress of events from week to week General Pendleton
will tell. His own part in the continued defence and the
evidences of his spiritual advancement in those days of trial and
bereavement will also be best learned from his letters.
Sunday night, October 16, 1864.
"I wrote you a hurried letter yesterday morning giving a brief
account of my journey and arrival at camp. After sending it I
rode out to examine into the condition of the artillery on the lines
here. My ride was long. Everything appeared well. The enemy
has extended his lines several miles west, and ours have been correspondingly
stretched in that direction. They are well adjusted.
. . . This morning I devoted to preparing my sermon, and just before
ten started with Barnwell, Cooke, and Dandridge for Pegram's
quarters, five miles off. A large congregation was assembled.
They seemed devout and attentive, and God's blessing, I trust,
was granted. As agreed yesterday, we stayed to dinner. On
it for granted I would move over to the north side of the James,
but one also from General Lee saying he thought it advisable for
me to remain in charge of the artillery on our lines around Petersburg.
This, therefore, I shall do; but as everything seems quiet
just here at present, I must ride over in the morning and see
General Lee, there being some matters in which it will be well for
me to consult him.
"Pegram talked with me about our beloved Sandie. He was
with him at the University; told me he was universally admired
and beloved; said his devout Christian spirit was conspicuous
then; that he was the most influential student at the institution,
taking the lead in all good works."
"Although it is late, and I have had a busy day, I must indulge
myself in writing. I got back this evening from the north side
of the James. Yesterday I rode along our line to the river;
crossed at Chaffin's; dined at General Lee's head-quarters. Today
we examined the lines over there; very safe, I think. My
staff all back here with me. It is now some time past ten, and
mortar shelling is making the region re-echo."
Among General Pendleton's private papers there was found,
after his death, a correspondence relating to the dining at General
Lee's mentioned above. The notes are given here as strikingly
characteristic of the two writers:
"My dear General,—I have been so disturbed by an omission
which occurred when I had the privilege of dining with you day
before yesterday that I feel bound to write a brief note of apology,
if it were, as is not unlikely, a misunderstanding of my own. It
was the failure on my part to ask a blessing at the table. I expected
to do so, and awaited your request to that effect, but did not
notice one by sign or word. I may, however, have overlooked
such intimation from you, or you may have taken for granted I
would without it say grace. Or you may have for the time forgotten
my sacred office under the military relations in which we
commonly meet. In such case, however, you would, I suppose,
and although not one of the more important
matters of life, I would not have it pass on my own part unexplained.
"Let me also for once take occasion so far to lay aside the
restraints of military etiquette as to assure you of the sincere
personal friendship which I feel for yourself, and the fervent
prayer with which I more than daily commend you to God's
gracious guidance and blessing.
"Commanding Army Northern Virginia."
"My dear General,—I have received your note of the 19th.
I had expected you to ask a blessing on our table, and turned to
you with that view. It was my fault, I think, in not making a
more pointed request, which I should have done. Finding you
apparently preparing to take your seat I failed to request your
office, and, as is very frequently the case with me at our informal
camp meals, offered a silent petition of thanks.
"I reciprocate in the fullest manner your feelings of friendship,
which has always been to me a source of pleasure, and am deeply
obliged to you for your fervent, pious prayers in my behalf. No
one stands in greater need of them. My feeble petitions I dare
hardly hope will be answered.
"Commanding Artillery, Army Northern Virginia.
"Unofficial"
To his wife he wrote constantly of their son.
"This day has, if possible, brought our dear child and you all
more vividly and constantly before me. It was this day four
weeks that he received his death-wound. . . . Our fallen nature
finds it hard to realize how blessed they are whom God prepares
with Him even in sorrow while waiting all the days of our appointed
time. . . . To dwell on the loss and on the trying circumstances
of his removal, as there is some natural tendency in my
mind, would so accumulate grief as to render it painful beyond
expression and unfit me for duty. Such indulgence, therefore, I
know is not right. . . . It seems to me you may, as I try to realize
myself, find pleasing solaces in many natural scenes. The sweet
blue heavens speak of where the beloved of our hearts is now
rejoicing; the lovely landscape, with its varied beauties, tells of
scenes far more exquisite in which his ransomed spirit from
henceforth delights, and where we may hope to join him in
sacred joy." . . .
"The movements of the enemy here on Thursday and Friday
prevented my making the engagement for service with some
troops as I intended. . . . The satisfaction of having our dear
son's remains suitably disposed where they will be likely to remain
undisturbed, and where ourselves and others who valued him can
visit his honored grave, is a cause for thankfulness. But the
incidents connected with that removal and reinterment could not
but be to you all a reopening of the sources of sorrow, while the
denial to myself of the privilege of sharing with you this sad
tribute to our beloved has been to me a hard sacrifice of domestic
to public duty." . . .
In the next extract given we learn that he wished a sketch of
this beloved son to be prepared, and also how so very many of
his papers and letters were preserved.
"About our dear child's memoirs you must all do just what
you severally feel able and inclined to do. Among my vast piles
of papers left with Cousin Mildred Taylor at Orange Court-House,
when we marched on this campaign the 1st of May, there
are all the letters he wrote me from time to time for the last two
or three years up to the present campaign. I wish to have all
those packages taken home as soon as I can, and then the dear
child's letters all gathered out, examined, and used as may be
best." . . .
"I am rejoiced that you have arranged for a supply of wood.
It is very wise, costly though it be. Wood for our poor fellows
on the lines is a great problem. No wagon can approach them,
and yet it takes a vast deal. Think of men wet and cold, with
precarious fire, without good shelter, and liable to be shot at any
hour day or night! Yet they get along surprisingly. I was
both pleased and pained in my walk along the trenches yesterday.
Am off again presently. . . . How my heart does cling to
you all! Our dear Sandie seems as much in my thoughts as the
first week of our mourning, and with an inexpressible sense of
loss. He comes before me in many different scenes: as in his
boyhood, student life, and in the army; when he and I went to
Moss Neck; as he stood before me with his beloved bride; as
we were at home together last winter. But I must try to think
more of him as rejoicing in the Master's likeness and presence,
and awaiting us all there. These habitual thoughts of him are
directly connected with you all. My life is, as it were, a double
one,—with you in spirit, here in necessary business and bodily
presence."
"I occupy a little time to-night in writing. I had to be so
hurried this morning because General Lee had sent for me. I
went over, and learned from him of certain movements of the
enemy which required corresponding arrangements on our part.
My share in them kept me out all day. Part of the time was
under pretty severe mortar shelling. . . . Must tell you of my
trip to Richmond to meet Sue and General Edwin. Her letter
did not reach me, but yours of Friday came in time to enable me
to take the cars at 2.30 P.M. on Monday. I thus reached Richmond
some time before them. From Mrs. Bransford's, where I
promised to stay, I went to the train and met the travellers.
The next day we were a good deal together, though each had
something special to do. I saw the President and Secretary of
War. The President quite sick with neuralgia. Tuesday night
I stayed at Dr. Williams's. The travellers had to be off yesterday
morning at seven,—so we had breakfast at 6.30. I accompanied
them to the cars, and took leave as the train started,
commending them to God's gracious care. . . . The President
the country as well as to us. If this world were all, or chief,
what a strange dispensation would be the removal of one every
way so superior! But in view of the heavenly world to which he
is exalted, it is no longer perplexing. That fine disposition,
those noble endowments and attainments, and the consecrating
grace which rendered him through the Mediator acceptable to
God, find freer and happier scope in the blessed sphere to which
he is advanced. Sure of this, we can combat the sadness, and
find more than comfort in the certainty for him and the hope for
ourselves."
"The movements to which I have alluded in my recent letters
have pretty much subsided, without much result on either side.
The enemy made a great effort to destroy the Weldon Railroad,
but were so pressed by our forces that they did but little damage,
—tearing up some ten miles of the track, though burning no
important bridge. We hoped A. P. Hill might destroy the column
thus engaged, but either we were too slow or the inclement
weather rendered it impossible. The enemy returned and so did
our troops. There is still, however, some excitement along the
lines and everybody kept on the alert."
"I send Mary Williams's note, giving the joyful intelligence
that Sue and General Edwin got out from Wilmington safely."[2]
General Edwin Lee had been sent to Canada to carry out some instructions privately
given him with regard to matters believed to be of much importance to the
Southern Confederacy. Feeble health prevented his doing active work in the field or
the trenches, but it was believed that his sagacity and prudence, combined with his
readiness of resource and absolute fearlessness, rendered him capable for the work
assigned him. He was therefore given a sick furlough, and directed to proceed to
Montreal and obey the verbal orders received in Richmond. He was permitted to
take his wife, if the officers and crew on one of the blockade-running vessels would
let her go,—some of them being superstitiously averse to having a woman on board.
"At present everything looks quiet here, although there is
random cannonading every day and picket skirmishing day and
night. On Friday, while George Peterkin and myself were on
the lines examining an important point, a severe cannonade broke
officers, Lieutenant-Colonel Moseley, was instantly killed by a
shell, which took off his head, and several soldiers were wounded
at the same time.
"Thus it is, and will probably be all winter.
"Yesterday morning the Yankees fired one hundred guns, and
some of them called over to our pickets boasting that Sherman
had captured Savannah. I take for granted it is so. It is a
serious blow to us and will give much trouble. Sherman ought
to have been effectually dealt with on his march, and this might
have been but for Hood's ill-judged circuit into Tennessee.
The President was, I learn, as much amazed as everybody else at
that strange manœuvre of Hood's, and shocked to find he had
left all Georgia at Sherman's mercy. The removal of General
Johnston will turn out, I fear, a very great and lasting injury to
us, as he would certainly not have committed this blunder. The
breach between the President and himself is too wide, I am
afraid, to be healed. . . . After all, however, none of these special
losses need cast us down. If we are right, as I believe, God
will in the end bring good out of the struggle, whether He
gratify us or not in the particular form of the result. And while
I greatly desire the full achievement of our independence, I am
willing to leave the issue to supreme wisdom, meanwhile trying
to do present duty as far as I can see it."
General Pendleton was greatly desirous to get home for a few
days at Christmas, especially to baptize a little grandson born
after his father's death. Finding it impossible for him to obtain
leave of absence at that time, he wrote,—
"You will all be grievously disappointed, as I am, that I cannot
get home. General Lee says the enemy is so active everywhere
that he deems my absence inexpedient. Language cannot
describe my feelings of distress under the privation, and especially
that I am debarred the privilege of formally dedicating that
dear little Sandie to God in His own ordinance of baptism. . . .
I had saddle-bags packed and everything ready to start, only
awaiting the furlough from General Lee on his return from
note came desiring to see me. I went. He wishes me to inspect
to-morrow the heavy batteries at Chaffin's Bluff. So I
have before me that cold ride, for it has turned very cold. That,
however, is a trifle. As I cannot get to you, duty here is best,
no matter how uncomfortable."
Christmas-day brought him additional bad news. Writing
home on that day, he says,—
"May the Infinite mercy commemorated this day fill our
hearts with peaceful gratitude amid the trials in which the season
finds us! Surely we are blessed with abundant privileges still,
though it has pleased God to lay His hand upon our joys. . . .
Yesterday I was engaged all day in carefully examining the
works at Chaffin's,—so important if the Yankee ironclads come
up through their canal. About seven P.M. we returned to camp,
—fifteen miles. As our cook had gone home I had poor prospect
for supper, and sent to Mrs. Lynch to be so kind as to give
me a little bread. Immediately one of the boys came to insist
on my going there to supper. On getting back I found two
letters, one from a major of artillery asking of me Christian
counsel, as being, to his feeling, chief of artillery in that respect,
as well as in the military relation; the other from Walker's
daughter Nannie, begging me to aid them in a great distress.
The Yankees have been there and carried Walker off. He is
quite infirm and could not ride on horseback, so had to walk,
she says, about thirty-six miles, which he could illy do. The
wretches! Will not God visit them for such abominations? I
will write to Mr. Ould, but exchanges are not made for citizens
thus abducted."
In a visit to Richmond a few weeks before he had met this
beloved brother, and had written of him, "Walker and I slept
together. He has hardly a gray hair in his head, and altogether
he looks from six to ten years younger than I, but in point of
activity and vigor he is considerably behind me."
"Having written yesterday I should not do so again, but as
this is a day of special significance to me in my highest relations,
I feel drawn to a special communication with you. I am to-day
fifty-five years old, and the remembrance brings up the past with
its privileges and its sins, its joys and its sorrows, and points to
the future with its trials and mercies, its uncertainty and end.
The most amazing fact that strikes me in the retrospect is that
so much favor has been granted to one so unworthy."
The letters of this period are short, and usually written hurriedly,
on account of the pressure of office-work during the time
not spent in riding and inspection on the lines.
The narrative of the events of 1864, as connected with General
Pendleton, cannot be better brought to a conclusion than by
quoting a paragraph from his official report for that period:
"In the whole of the eventful campaign of 1864 the artillery
of the Army of Northern Virginia bore a distinguished part, and
in every portion of the widely-extended field of operation rendered
signal service. . . . It has everywhere and at all times
proved reliable, how great soever the emergency. In the wildest
fury of battle, under ceaseless harassment and exposure from
sharp-shooters and shelling on the lines, on the toilsome march,
amid all the hardships of the trenches, through summer, fall,
and winter, and when steadily breasting the tide of reverse
against friends unnerved or overpowered and foes flushed with
triumph, the brave officers and men of this branch of our army
have almost without exception exemplified the very highest virtues
of Christian soldiers battling for their faith, their honor, and
their homes."
The members of his staff at this time were Captain Dudley
D. Pendleton, assistant adjutant-general; Lieutenant George W.
Peterkin and acting Lieutenant Charles Hatcher, aides-de-camp;
Captain John Esten Cooke and Lieutenant E. P. Dandridge, assistant
inspector-generals; Major John G. Barn-well, ordnance
officer; Dr. John Graham, surgeon; Major John Page, quartermaster;
they have uniformly discharged their duties with faithful alacrity
and to my entire satisfaction."
| CHAPTER XLI. Memoirs of William Nelson Pendleton, D.D., | |