University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XXVI.

The beginning of 1862 found Johnston's army lying in the
mud around Centreville watching and waiting for some movement
on McClellan's part. As the weeks went on and he did
not advance, his intention to approach Richmond by some shorter
and less fatiguing route passed from conjecture into certainty,
though as yet nothing indicated whether he would move by Fredericksburg,
the York or the James River. This season of inactivity
and suspense was full of weariness to the soldiers and of
anxiety and effort on the part of the generals.

In his particular department Colonel Pendleton was busy in
looking after the welfare and efficiency of the artillery and caring
for the moral good as well as the physical comfort of the men
under his charge. During the month of January he had the happiness
of having his wife with him, in a private house near Centreville.
Mrs. Pendleton was accompanied by her sister-in-law,
Mrs. John Page. So rare was the sight of a woman that when
the two ladies, with their negro maid, stepped out of the cars at
Manassas an Irishman near by exclaimed, "Lord! if there ain't

a woman; and there's another! and, oh, Lord! if there ain't a
nigger woman, too!" While Mrs. Pendleton remained at Centreville
all the home correspondence devolved upon her. One
of the events of her visit was a day spent in camp and a dinner
given at artillery head-quarters. Of this she wrote,—

"Yesterday Betsey and I set off as soon as we could after
breakfast and walked on the slightly-frozen ground to your papa's
camp. Mr. Cameron on foot and Captain Cummings on horseback
were our esquires. We went across to the Warrenton pike,
getting over the fields in our way without wetting our feet. After
a short walk on the pike we found a stream so wide and mud so
deep that we hesitated to attempt to cross it. Just then a wagon
drove up, and we got in. It was one belonging to Radford's
regiment, going on picket. We rode till it was time to go in
from the turnpike; the cabins are not more than one hundred
and fifty yards from it. The driver was from Botetourt; I gave
him a pair of nice socks, which I had in my bag, and Betsey
gave him a handkerchief. He seemed much pleased; said he
should stay in the army as long as it was possible to do anything
against the Yankees. This, I trust, will be found to be the spirit
of all the men when the time for re-enlistment comes. We had
your papa's cabin cleaned out, and laid down the pieces of carpet
which your aunt brought, and made it quite comfortable. The
dinner was in Lieutenant Barnwell's cabin, and as nice a meat
dinner as you need see; for vegetables we had only dried apples
I brought from home and rice. We had fourteen persons to
dinner." . . .

Early in February, Colonel Pendleton, writing to Bishop
Meade with regard to securing a permanent supply for his
church in Lexington, said of the state of things round Centreville,
—

"Everything is very quiet here. We are literally fast bound
in mud. This soil is terrible for motion in seasons like the
present. Our winter-quarters generally comfortable, so that the
sickness is less than might be expected. Our church at Centre
ville had to be reopened as a hospital for the men wounded at

Dranesville, and has been since necessarily closed as a place of
worship. I am having built in my own camp a rude chapel,
sixty feet by twenty-five. Though only one-quarter of the roof
is on, we had service there yesterday,—the floor lifting us out of
the mud, and the sides keeping out some wind. It was a great
privilege, as the two previous Sundays had been such I could
not have service at the door of my own cabin, where the men
had stood some Sundays before. Getting food and forage over
the roads is immense labor now. Yet we have hitherto obtained
supplies as needed."

To his son, still later,—

"The reason of my allowing so long a time to pass without
writing to you is, a multitude of official details have crowded
upon me within the past two or three weeks. Of these, part related
to the re-enlistment and part grew out of certain reports
respecting the artillery force of this army, which General Johnston
requested me to prepare under a call upon him from the
War Department.[1] One of these reports was of a rather delicate
character,—viz., as to the relative merit, in my estimation,
of the artillery officers of this army. Being called upon for this,
I could not hesitate about it. Yet I would not voluntarily have
presented anything so unavoidably invidious, and even under
official request I could not but submit it with deference and
caution, making it as confidential as possible. Such data look, I
suppose, towards certain promotions in the artillery, provided for
by a recent act of our Congress. You ask about something of
that kind for myself. I know little more than you do. Bledsoe
wrote me that was one object of the act. I am little concerned
on the subject. If best, it will come in time, no doubt.

"My mind has been much more anxious about public affairs
than about private claims the past week or two. These successes
of the enemy[2] will probably give us a great deal of trouble, not
so much because of their direct as of their indirect bearing. . . .
Still, how the whole is to work we do not know. This, though,

we are certified beyond all peradventure: our cause is as just as
ever, and as righteous as ever summoned men to a life-and-death
struggle. So that the straightforward path of duty is perfectly
plain."

Early in March it became certain that McClellan was preparing
for a forward movement, either by Fredericksburg or
the Peninsula.

Looking to such an emergency, the line of the Rappahannock
River had been fortified by General Johnston's orders, so as to
furnish a line of defence, when he was obliged to draw his army
back. That the time had now come for such a movement could
no longer be questioned, and all departments of the army were
ordered to reduce baggage, and be ready to march at speedy
notice. For the better mobilizing of the army, Colonel Pendleton
and his reserve corps was ordered to report temporarily to
General G. W. Smith, so as to move with his command. General
Johnston informed him at the same time that there was no
intention to place him, except for a brief period, under any of
his subordinate commanders.

On the morning of March 8 the division of General Smith,
with the reserve artillery, moved by the turnpike towards
Warrenton. Four days later, March 12, Colonel Pendleton
wrote to his wife,—

From Orange Court-House, still farther back, he wrote on
March 18,—

". . . I had hoped to worship with them at Culpeper and
preach for Mr. Cole on Sunday, but orders came for a march
early that morning, so we had to put off through the mud, and
a weary way we had. Still, on the whole, we got on pretty well.

Slaughter[4] met me on the road, accompanied me to the spot
selected for our camp that night, and, after I had arranged everything
for the comfort of men and horses, took me to his house,
three-quarters of a mile distant. By daylight he came into my
room to report 'bad news.' My horse had been stolen out of
his stable by some marauding soldiers. He lent me one. I
rode to camp, got one from a battery, and proceeded on the
march. About noon Dr. Perrin, riding ahead, saw the horse in
the service of three or four soldiers, who had packed on it their
knapsacks, etc. Of course they gave up the animal and will be
duly punished. I will try to have it as gentle a penalty as may
consist with discipline."

Johnston's army lay around Orange Court-House for two
weeks. The rest was good for men and horses, preparing them
for the toilsome marches before them.

Colonel Pendleton's letters at this time are full of interest,
speaking not only of military matters, but of other subjects
more personal and private. After the news of Kernstown he
wrote,—

". . . Thank God for the safety of Sandie and Edwin Lee and
others of our dear ones in the late fight under Jackson. They
seem to have made a most effective fight. The Yankees suffered
much. I should be better satisfied if Jackson had a larger force,
but he will give a good account of himself in any event. . . .
You ask what I think of the safety of Lexington. At present it
seems to me as secure as any spot in the State. By and by
something may turn up to render it otherwise. But I do not
anticipate any danger of the enemy getting so far into the State
at this time."

A letter from Rev. Dr. Minnegerode, of St. Paul's, Richmond,
written at this time, informed Colonel Pendleton of Bishop Meade's
extreme illness:

"Bishop Meade is very sick: it will grieve you to hear this.
He has a wretched cold and deep-seated cough and looks very

feeble, with bad nights, loss of appetite, etc. His lion's heart
keeps him up, and his interest in our great contest. He is
anxious to hear about his grandson, and wants you to write to
him at once."

Immediately after this came the tidings of the bishop's death
in Richmond. Of this—a real personal sorrow to him—Colonel
Pendleton wrote to his wife,—

". . . And dear, dear Bishop Meade has been taken to his
great reward! Bless the Lord, O my soul, for the grace granted
him, and for the bright example he has left us. Our dear State
and country are called to suffer, and will probably have to suffer
more deeply still. But precious is the privilege vouchsafed
them of numbering among their citizens such characters as
Bishop Meade. The world has rarely produced his equal.
Take him for all in all, I have never seen and expect never to
see his like. Though I feel it to the bottom of my heart, I do
not misgive the precious cause of Christ he so lived to advance,
nor the cause of our imperilled country he so loyally cherished.

"Perhaps I ought not to say so strongly I have no misgiving
about the country. Threatened as we are, and with such enormous
odds against us, I cannot help seeing that if the Lord help
us not mightily we are in great danger of being put under the
yoke by Yankee taskmasters. . . . Disaster seems crowding upon
us on all sides. Nothing, however, decisive has yet appeared, and
we may well trust in God and nerve ourselves to the closer contest
that is coming. Vigor in our authorities and fidelity on the part
of our people may yet be blessed to the establishment of our
birthright of independence. You all at home and we in the
field must cast our care upon Him who careth for us. . . . I
have to-night read the last Southern Churchman. It will tell you
all about dear Bishop Meade. What a true, faithful, blessed man
he was! Great by nature, good by grace, and with them combined
wonderful. I hardly know whether I most grieve or rejoice
over him. Perhaps the predominant feeling is gratitude
for all that he was and all that he did. I feel some sadness that
I could not be with him; that my present obligations seemed to
cut me off from the special Christian Communion at his grave,

etc. But his own expressions even at the last seem to sanction,
as they had done before, my peculiar position in this great
struggle. How thankful I am it was allowed me to be thrown
into intimate relations with him, to catch, as I trust, something
of his spirit and to receive some impress from his strong and
holy character! . . . I have to-night written to Aunt Judy, and
having ridden thirty miles to-day, and having to get up and go
to camp early in the morning, it may not be prudent for me to
sit up much longer. Heaven favoring us with a few days of
sunshine, our roads will be much better. Work away at the
garden, my love. That was a noble trait of the dear bishop to
the last, to go on with usual matters as if there were to be no
great change. . . . My staff yesterday made me a present of a
very fine horse. I am really much obliged to them. I had
some days ago offered two hundred and fifty dollars for a horse,
but could not get it. They found another of excellent gait and
well conditioned, which they yesterday bought and presented to
me. The kind regard thus evinced claims my gratitude to God
as well as to them."

From Louisa Court-House, April n, he wrote,—

". . . On Sunday afternoon last we were suddenly ordered to
march towards Fredericksburg. I had preached that morning
to my own command in the open air, the day being delightful.
That night my batteries were on the road all night. I got
shelter and rest on a sofa for some three hours; by daylight we
moved on, and by three in the afternoon, after making some
fifteen miles, were halted, it being found that the report of the
enemy in force in that direction was incorrect. It had at that
hour begun to rain,—a cold, sleety rain,—and we had to bivouac
without tents for the men, and pass the night in a most uncomfortable
fix. Next morning, in a pouring rain, we were ordered
to retrace our steps. I was in the storm all day without covering
save my old great-coat, but it kept me dry, immense as was the
fall of water. Some miles below Orange Court-House we were
ordered to turn aside towards this place, and after a dreadful
day's march through mud, and across swollen streams and
gullied hills, we stopped for the night, again under pouring rain

and without shelter. A greater difficulty than all being to get
provender for our seven hundred and fifty horses. Still, by great
energy we got on pretty well. The next morning, Wednesday,
we started again in, if possible, a worse rain, and pressed along
through perhaps the worst roads I ever had to travel. Yesterday,
by dint of untiring energy, we reached this point at two
o'clock.

"I found here two things to mention: first, a telegram from
General Lee directing me to march my command to Richmond
at once, and there get orders; and, second, a commission for me
as 'Brigadier-General of Artillery,' dated March 26. So that is
now my strange title. It is very far from elating me. I feel
deeply the responsibility, and can only ask grace, wisdom, and
strength to serve the country according to God's will, and for
His glory, in so important a sphere.

"I thought it best, and General Longstreet, who is also on
the march for Richmond, concurred in the view, to let my men
and horses have a day's rest to-day. To-morrow (D. V.) we
start early on the next laborious march, for the roads are terrible.
We go expecting the great conflict where McClellan seems to
intend it, either in the Peninsula or in North Carolina. Write to
me in Richmond to General Lee's care. I have not heard for a
long time, but trust you all to the gracious keeping of God. His
peace is much with me. Write to Sandie for me,—I don't know
where to direct. May the Almighty shield him!"

The commission as brigadier-general was sent to Colonel
Pendleton with the following autograph note from General
Longstreet:

On the same day, April 10, Sandie Pendleton wrote to his
father from Rude's, near Mount Jackson, Shenandoah County:

"My Beloved Father,—The work of the day is over, and
I can put off no longer,—allow me, my dear sir, to take your
hand, and with a hearty, affectionate, filial shake, to congratulate
you on your brigadier's commission. I am all the more
pleased at being able to do this because of the certainty that no
honor which has been conferred by the President has been better
deserved or will be more prized, and the knowledge that whatever
duties the new position may impose, they will all be faithfully
discharged. And I assure you that the announcement has
been received by all here with the liveliest satisfaction. General
Jackson desired me to give you his most cordial congratulations
and love. . . . You have heard all about our fight at Kernstown
from the press and my letters to mamma. It was made, General
Jackson says, under orders to keep Banks from moving over the
Ridge, and bring back any force that might have gone. And
we accomplished it, for the whole force is before us now, at
Edinburg, six miles below here, and has been for ten days. Our
army is increasing rapidly, and is in fine spirits.

"We have just gotten yesterday's papers, and while rejoicing
over our victory are saddened and solemnized by the death of
the great and good A. S. Johnston. And are all in raptures
over President Davis's message. How nobly he stands forth in
that paper,—the Christian, the patriot, the friend! May God
grant us success elsewhere!"

Act of Confederate Congress referred to above: