Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins.

by John Esten Cooke

  I have already spoken more than once of this sombre country--a land ofundergrowth, thicket, ooze; where sight failed, and attacks had to bemade by the needle, the officers advancing in front of the line withdrawn--compasses!

  The assaults here were worse than night fighting; the combats strangebeyond example. Regiments, brigades, and divisions stumbled on eachother before they knew it; and each opened fire, guided alone bythe crackling of steps in the bushes. There was something weird andlugubrious in such a struggle. It was not a conflict of men, matchedagainst each other in civilized warfare. Two wild animals were prowling,and hunting each other in the jungle. When they heard each others'steps, they sprang and grappled. One fell, the other fell upon him. Thenthe conqueror rose up and went in pursuit of other game--the dead waslost from all eyes.

  In this mournful and desolate country of the Spottsylvania Wilderness,did the bloody campaign of 1864 begin. Here, where the very landscapeseemed dolorous; here, in blind wrestle, as at midnight, did 200,000men, in blue and gray, clutch each other--bloodiest and weirdest ofencounters.

  War had had nothing like it. Destruction of life had become a science,and was done by the compass.

  The Genius of Blood, apparently tired of the old common-place mode ofkilling, had invented the "Unseen Death," in the depths of the jungle.

  On the morning of May 6th, Lee and Grant had grappled, and the battlebecame general along the entire line of the two armies. In these rapidmemoirs I need only outline this bitter struggle--the histories willdescribe it.

  Lee was aiming to get around the enemy's left, and huddle him up in thethicket--but in this he failed.

  Just as Longstreet, who had arrived and taken part in the action, wasadvancing to turn the Federal flank on the Brock road, he was wounded byone of his own men; and the movement was arrested in mid career.

  But Lee adhered to his plan. He determined to lead his column in person,and would have done so, but for the remonstrances of his men.

  "To the rear!" shouted the troops, as he rode in front of them; "to therear!"

  And he was obliged to obey.

  He was not needed.

  The gray lines surged forward: the thicket was full of smoke and quickflashes of flame: then the woods took fire, and the scene of carnagehad a new and ghastly feature added to it. Dense clouds of smoke rose,blinding and choking the combatants: the flames crackled, soared aloft,and were blown in the men's faces; and still, in the midst of thisfrightful array of horrors, the carnival of destruction went on withoutceasing.

  At nightfall, General Lee had driven the enemy from their front line ofworks--but nothing was gained.

  What _could_ be gained in that wretched country, where there was nothingbut thicket, thicket!

  General Grant saw his danger, and, no doubt, divined the object of hisadversary,--to arrest and cripple him in this tangle-wood, where numbersdid not count, and artillery could not be used.

  There was but one thing to do--to get out of the jungle.

  So, on the day after this weird encounter, in which he had lost nearly20,000 men, and Lee about 8,000, Grant moved toward Spottsylvania.

  The thickets of the Wilderness were again silent, and the blue and grayobjects in the undergrowth did not move.

  The war-dogs had gone to tear each other elsewhere.

  XXXIII.

  BREATHED AND HIS GUN.

  In the din and smoke of that desperate grapple of the infantry, I havelost sight of the incessant cavalry combats which marked each day withblood.

  And now there is no time to return to them. A great and sombre eventdrags the pen. With one scene I shall dismiss those heroic fights--butthat scene will be superb.

  Does the reader remember the brave Breathed, commanding a battalion ofthe Stuart horse artillery? I first spoke of him on the night precedingChancellorsville, when he came to see Stuart, at that time he wasalready famous for his "do-or die" fighting. A Marylander by birth, hehad "come over to help us:" had been the right-hand man of Pelham; thefavorite of Stuart; the admiration of the whole army for a courage whichthe word "reckless" best describes;--and now, in this May, 1864, hisfamiliar name of "Old Jim Breathed," bestowed by Stuart, who held himin high favor, had become the synonym of stubborn nerve and _elan_,unsurpassed by that of Murat. To fight his guns to the muzzles, or go inwith the sabre, best suited Breathed. A veritable bull-dog in combat, heshrank at nothing, and led everywhere. I saw brave men in the war--nonebraver than Breathed. When he failed in any thing, it was becausereckless courage could not accomplish it.

  He was young, of vigorous frame, with dark hair and eyes, and tannedby sun and wind. His voice was low, and deep; his manners simple andunassuming; his ready laugh and off-hand bearing indicated the bornsoldier; eyes mild, friendly, and full of honesty. It was only whenBreathed was fighting his guns, or leading a charge, that they resembledred-hot coals, and seemed to flame.

  To come to my incident. I wish, reader, to show you Breathed; to letyou see the whole individual in a single exploit. It is good to recordthings not recorded in "history." They are, after all, the real gloryof the South of which nothing can deprive her. I please myself, too, forBreathed was my friend. I loved and admired him--and only a month or twobefore, he had made the whole army admire--and laugh with--him too.

  See how memory leads me off! I am going to give ten words, first, tothat incident which made us laugh.

  In the last days of winter, a force of Federal cavalry came to makean attack on Charlottesville--crossing the Rapidan high up toward themountains, and aiming to surprise the place. Unfortunately for him,General Custer, who commanded the expedition, was to find the Stuarthorse artillery in winter quarters near. So sudden and unexpected wasCuster's advance, that the artillery camps were entirely surprised. Atone moment, the men were lying down in their tents, dozing, smoking,laughing--the horses turned out to graze, the guns covered, a profoundpeace reigning--at the next, they were running to arms, shouting, and inconfusion, with the blue cavalry charging straight on their tents, sabrein hand.

  Breathed had been lounging like the rest, laughing and talking with themen. Peril made him suddenly king, and, sabre in hand, he rushed to theguns, calling to his men to follow.

  With his own hands he wheeled a gun round, drove home a charge, andtrained the piece to bear upon the Federal cavalry, trampling in amongthe tents within fifty yards of him.

  "Man the guns!" he shouted, in his voice of thunder. "Stand to yourguns, boys! You promised me you would never let these guns be taken!"[1]

  [Footnote 1: His words.]

  A roar of voices answered him. The bull-dogs thrilled at the voice ofthe master. Suddenly the pieces spouted flame; shell and canister torethrough the Federal ranks. Breathed was everywhere, cheering on thecannoneers. Discharge succeeded discharge; the ground shook: then theenemy gave back, wavering and losing heart.

  Breathed seized the moment. Many of the horses had been caught andhastily saddled. Breathed leaped upon one of them, and shouted:--

  "Mount!"

  The men threw themselves into the saddle--some armed with sabres, otherswith clubs, others with pieces of fence-rail, caught up from the fires.

  "Charge!" thundered Breathed.

  At the head of his men, he lead a headlong charge upon the Federalcavalry, which broke and fled in the wildest disorder, pursued by theragged cannoneers, Breathed in front, with yells, cheers, and cries ofdefiance.

  They were pursued past Barboursville to the Rapidan, without pause. Thatnight Stuart went after them: their officers held a council of war, itis said, to decide whether they should not bury their artillery nearStannardsville, to prevent is capture. On the day after this, they hadescaped.

  In passing Barboursville, on their return from Charlottesville, one ofthe Federal troopers stopped to get a drink of water at the house of acitizen.

  "What's the matter?" asked the citizen.

  "Well, we are retreating."

  "Who is after you?"

  "Nobody but old Jim Breat
hed and his men, armed with fence-rails."[1]

  [Footnote 1: His words.]

  Such was one of a dozen incidents in Breathed's life. Let me come tothat which took place near Spottsylvania Court-House.

  Grant had moved, as we have seen, by his left flank toward that place.General Fitzhugh Lee opposed him on the way, and at every step harassedthe head of the Federal column with his dismounted sharp-shooters andhorse artillery. Near Spottsylvania Court-House, it was the stand madeby Fitz Lee's cavalry that saved the position, changing the aspect ofthe whole campaign.

  Sent by Stuart with a message to the brave "General Fitz," I reached himnear Spottsylvania Court-House, at the moment when he had just orderedhis cavalry to fall back slowly before the advancing enemy, and take anew position in rear.

  Two guns which had been firing on the enemy were still in battery on ahill; upon these a heavy Federal skirmish line was steadily moving: andbeside the guns, Breathed and Fitzhugh Lee sat their horses, lookingcoolly at the advancing line.

  "Give them a round of canister, Breathed!" exclaimed General Fitz Lee.

  Breathed obeyed, but the skirmish line continued bravely to advance.All at once, there appeared in the woods behind them, a regular line ofbattle advancing, with flags fluttering.

  To remain longer on the hill was to lose the guns. The bullets werewhizzing around us, and there was but one course left--to fall back.

  "Take the guns off, Breathed!" exclaimed the general; "there is no timeto lose! Join the command in the new position, farther down the road!"

  Breathed looked decidedly unwilling.

  "A few more rounds, general!"

  And turning to the men, he shouted:--

  "Give them canister!"

  At the word, the guns spouted flame, and the canister tore through theline of skirmishers, and the Federal line of battle behind; but itdid not check them. They came on more rapidly, and the air was full ofballs.

  "Look out for the guns, Breathed! Take them off!" exclaimed the general.

  Breathed turned toward one of the pieces, and ordered:--

  "Limber to the rear!"

  The order was quickly obeyed.

  "Forward!"

  The piece went off at a thundering gallop, pursued by bullets.

  "Only a few more rounds, general!" pleaded Breathed; "I won't lose theguns!"

  "All right!"

  As he spoke, the enemy rushed upon the single gun.

  Breathed replied by hurling canister in their faces. He sat his horse,unflinching. Never had I seen a more superb soldier.

  The enemy were nearly at the muzzle of the piece.

  "Surrender!" they were heard shouting; "surrender the gun!" Breathed'sresponse was a roar, which hurled back the front rank.

  Then, his form towering amid the smoke, his eyes flashing, his drawnsabre whirled above his head, Breathed shouted,--

  "Limber up!"

  The cannoneers seized the trail; the horses wheeled at a gallop; thepiece was limbered up; and the men rushed down the hill to mount theirhorses, left there.

  Then around the gun seemed to open a volcano of flame. The Federalinfantry were right on it. A storm of bullets cut the air. Thedrivers leaped from the horses drawing the piece, thinking its captureinevitable, and ran down the hill.

  In an instant they had disappeared. The piece seemed in the hands of theenemy--indeed, they were almost touching it--a gun of the Stuart horseartillery for the first time was to be captured!

  That thought seemed to turn Breathed into a giant. As the driversdisappeared, his own horse was shot under him, staggered, sunk, androlled upon his rider. Breathed dragged himself from beneath thebleeding animal, rose to his feet, and rushing to the lead horses of thegun, leaped upon one of them, and struck them violently with his sabreto force them on.

  As he did so, the horse upon which he was mounted fell, pierced by abullet through the body.

  Breathed fell upon his feet, and, with the edge of his sabre, cut thetwo leaders out of the traces. He then leaped upon one of the middlehorses--the gun being drawn by six--and started off.

  He had not gone three paces, when the animal which he now rode felldead in turn. Breathed rolled upon the ground, but rising to his feet,severed the dead animal and his companion from the piece, as he had donethe leaders.

  He then leaped upon one of the wheel-horses--these alone being nowleft--struck them furiously with his sabre--started at a thunderinggallop down the hill--and pursued by a hail-storm of bullets, fromwhich, as General Lee says in his report, "he miraculously escapedunharmed," carried off the gun in safety, and rejoined the cavalry,greeted by a rolling thunder of cheers.

  Such was the manner in which Breathed fought his artillery, and thenarrative is the barest and most simple statement of fact.

  Breathed came out of the war a lieutenant-colonel only. Napoleon wouldhave made him a marshal.

  XXXIV.

  MY LAST RIDE WITH STUART.

  More than one stirring incident marked those days of desperate fighting,when, barricading all the roads, and charging recklessly, Stuartopposed, at every step, Grant's advance toward the Po.

  But I can not describe those incidents. They must be left to others. Thepen which has paused to record that exploit of Breathed, is drawn onwardas by the hand of Fate toward one of those scenes which stand out,lugubrious and bloody, from the pages of history.

  From the moment when Grant crossed the Rapidan, Stuart had met thehorsemen of Sheridan everywhere in bitter conflict; and the days andnights had been strewed all over with battles.

  Now, on the ninth of May, when the two great adversaries faced eachother on the Po, a more arduous service still was demanded of thegreat sabreur. Sheridan had been dispatched to sever General Lee'scommunications, and, if possible, capture Richmond. The city was knownto be well nigh stripped of troops, and a determined assault mightresult in its fall. Sheridan accordingly cut loose a heavy column, tookcommand of it in person, and descended like a thunderbolt toward thedevoted city.

  No sooner, however, had he begun to move, than Stuart followed on histrack. He had no difficulty in doing so. A great dust-cloud toldthe story. That cloud hung above the long column of Federal cavalry,accompanied it wherever it moved, and indicated clearly to Stuart thecourse which his adversary was pursuing.

  If he could only interpose, with however small a force, between Sheridanand Richmond, time would be given for preparation to resist the attack,and the capital might be saved. If he failed to interpose, Sheridanwould accomplish his object--Richmond would fall.

  It was a forlorn hope, after all, that he could arrest the Federalcommander. General Sheridan took with him a force estimated at 9,000.Stuart's was, in all, about 3,000; Gordon, who was not in the battle atYellow Tavern, included. That action was fought by Fitz Lee's divisionof 2,400 men all told. But the men and officers were brave beyond words;the incentive to daring resistance was enormous; they would do all thatcould be done.

  Such was the situation of affairs on the 9th of May, 1864.

  Stuart set out at full gallop on his iron gray, from SpottsylvaniaCourt-House, about three o'clock in the day, and reached Chilesburg,toward Hanover Junction, just as night fell.

  Here we found General Fitz Lee engaged in a hot skirmish with theenemy's rear-guard; and that night Stuart planned an attack upon theircamp, but abandoned the idea.

  His spirits at this time were excellent, but it was easy to see that herealized the immense importance of checking the enemy.

  An officer said in his presence:--

  "We won't be able to stop Sheridan."

  Stuart turned at those words; his cheeks flushed; his eyes flamed, andhe said:--

  "No, sir! I'd rather die than let him go on!"[1]

  [Footnote 1: His words]

  On the next morning, he moved in the direction of Hanover Junction;riding boot to boot with his friend General Fitz Lee. I had never seenhim more joyous. Some events engrave themselves forever on the memory.That ride of May 10th, 1864, was
one of them.

  Have human beings a presentiment, ever, at the near approach of death?Does the shadow of the unseen hand ever reveal itself to the eye? I knownot, but I know that no such presentiment came to Stuart; no shadowof the coming event darkened the path of the great cavalier. On thecontrary, his spirits were buoyant beyond example, almost; and, ridingon with General Fitz Lee, he sang in his gallant voice his favoriteditties "Come out of the Wilderness!" and "Jine the Cavalry!"

  As he rode on thus, he was the beau ideal of a cavalier. His seat in thesaddle was firm; his blue eyes dazzling; his heavy mustache curledwith laughter at the least provocation. Something in this man seemedto spring forward to meet danger. Peril aroused and strung him. All hisenergies were stimulated by it. In that ride through the May forest, toattack Sheridan, and arrest him or die, Stuart's bearing and expressionwere superbly joyous and inspiring. His black plume floated in thespring breeze, like some knight-errant's; and he went to battle humminga song, resolved to conquer or fall.

  Riding beside him, I found my eyes incessantly attracted to his proudface; and now I see the great cavalier as then, clearly with the eyes ofmemory. What a career had been his! what a life of battles!

  As we went on through the spring woods, amid the joyous songs of birds,all the long, hard combats of this man passed before me like an immensepanorama. The ceaseless scouting and fighting in the Shenandoah Valley;the charge and route of the red-legged "Zouaves" at Manassas; thefalling back to the Peninsula, and the fighting all through CharlesCity; the famous ride around McClellan; the advance and combats on theRapidan and Rappahannock, after Cedar Mountain; the night attackon Catlett's, when he captured Pope's coat and papers; the march onJackson's flank, and the capture of Manassas; the advance into Maryland;the fights at Frederick, Crampton's, and Boonsboro', with the hardrear-guard work, as Lee retired to Sharpsburg; his splendid handling ofartillery on the left wing of the army there; the retreat, covered byhis cavalry; the second ride around McClellan, and safe escape from hisclutches; the bitter conflicts at Upperville and Barbee's, as Lee fellback; the hard fighting thereafter, on the banks of the Rappahannock;the "crowding 'em with artillery," on the night of Fredericksburg; thewinter march to Dumfries; the desperate battle at Kelly's Ford; thefalling back before Hooker; the battle of Chancellorsville, when hesucceeded Jackson; the stubborn wrestle of Fleetwood; the war of giantsbelow Upperville; the advance across Maryland into Pennsylvania, whenthe long march was strewed all over with battles, at Westminister,Hanover, Carlisle, Gettysburg, where he met and repulsed the bestcavalry of the Federal army; the retreat from Gettysburg, with thetough affair near Boonsboro'; guarding the rear of the army as itagain crossed the Potomac; then the campaign of October, ending withKilpatrick's route at Buckland; the assault on Meade's head of column,when he came over to Mine Run; the bold attack on his rear there;and the hard, incessant fighting since Grant had come over to theWilderness;--I remembered all these splendid scenes and illustriousservices as I rode on beside Stuart, through the fields and forests ofHanover, and thought, "This is one of those great figures which liveforever in history, and men's memories!"