The scenery intoxicated a young private named Ambrose Bierce. One of ten children—all with names beginning with the letter “A”—the nineteen-year-old Bierce possessed a tall, muscular frame, squarish jaw, deep-set blue eyes, and undulating golden hair. To escape work as an Elkhart, Indiana, grocery and restaurant clerk, he had joined the Ninth Indiana Infantry. Bierce had a keen eye and a gifted pen—traits that would become his calling. “Nine in ten of us had never seen a mountain, nor a hill as high as a church spire, until we had crossed the Ohio River,” he later wrote. “In power upon the emotions nothing, I think, is comparable to a first sight of mountains.”190
A mustachioed, pipe-smoking youth in his mid-twenties named William B. Fletcher was more captivated by the ladies. Schooled at Harvard and the New York College of Physicians and Surgeons, Fletcher had been outmaneuvered for a medical appointment in the Sixth Indiana Infantry. Unable to find another vacancy, he had reluctantly claimed the post of fife major in that regiment. Dr. Fletcher had no gift for music, but more compelling duty was to come his way.
As the train bearing Fletcher shuddered to a halt near Grafton, young women scurried forward. Wearing pretty white dresses and hand-sewn aprons bearing the Stars and Stripes, they presented bouquets of flowers to soldiers aboard the cars. Fletcher spied a black-haired beauty and called for her apron. Beaming to the flirtatious doctor, she handed over a “very tastefully made up” creation. The design was unique. A Union shield was prominent, and in the center was a single large star—cut neatly in two. One half was labeled “Eastern Va.,” the other, “Western Va.”191
On June 11—eight days after the “Philippi Races”—Virginia Unionists gathered in a second convention at Wheeling to debate the rending of that star. Attending were more than one hundred representatives from thirty-two western counties. Delegates from the eastern Virginia counties of Alexandria and Fairfax had also crossed the mountains to take part. Nearly one third of Virginia's voting population was represented. Duly-elected members of the General Assembly were seated if known to be loyal to the Union, others were chosen by petition.192
News-hawk Whitelaw Reid canvassed the delegates as they arrived. “There appears to be no doubt among the leaders,” he wrote, “that the Convention will take measures for the immediate establishment of a Provisional State Government that will at once form the nucleus around which the Union men of Virginia may rally. It seems scarcely probable that anything beyond this movement can be accomplished by the Convention, though the feeling for the separation of Western Virginia from the Eastern portion and the formation of a new State is undeniably very strong and constantly strengthening.”193
The convention was held in open defiance of the Richmond authorities. Officials in many counties sought to repress it. Each delegate took an oath to support the Constitution of the United States—“anything in the Ordinances of the Convention which assembled in Richmond, on the 13th of February last, to the contrary notwithstanding.”
Parkersburg attorney Arthur I. Boreman was chosen as president. However, John Carlile and Frank Pierpont were the linchpins of the second Wheeling convention. Waitman Willey, the law- and-order Unionist from Morgantown, was conspicuously absent; both his father and stepmother were seriously ill.194
The flamboyant Carlile, chair of the powerful committee on business, offered resolutions of thanks to General McClellan for rescuing the people of Western Virginia and to Colonel Kelley, “Western Virginia's loyal son,” for his service and sacrifice. Carlile's passion for a “New Virginia” had not cooled, but Article IV, Section 3 of the U.S. Constitution loomed as a stumbling block: “no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any other State…without the Consent of the Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of Congress.” The Richmond legislature would never consent to a division of the state; therefore the plan outlined by Frank Pierpont at the First Wheeling Convention guided the delegates.
A new Virginia government would be created. All state offices would be declared vacant, the traitors thrown out by proxy and Union men appointed in their place. Loyal Unionists would claim the political framework of a state already recognized by the Federal government—thereby courting favor with a Lincoln administration not anxious to deal with the Rebels. Lincoln himself held the constitutional authority to determine which of two competing parties was the lawful state government. An 1849 Supreme Court case in Rhode Island—Luther vs. Borden—had set the precedent.
Once Federal recognition was gained, a “restored” Virginia government could legally accede to the creation of a new state. The strategy was fraught with risk, but even statehood hard-liners saw its virtue.195
On June 13, the convention moved to Wheeling's United States Custom House. Inside its magnificent U.S. courtroom, John Carlile reported a “Declaration of Rights of the People of Virginia.” Like the declaration of 1776, this document was revolutionary—it charged secessionists with “usurping” the powers of the people of Virginia, forcing them to wage war against the United States, and attempting to subvert the Union to an “illegal confederacy of rebellious States.” The Richmond government had failed to protect the rights of the people; therefore it was “the duty of the latter to abolish it.”
All acts of the Richmond convention were repealed. All state offices held by secessionists were declared vacant. On June 14, “An Ordinance for the Re-organization of the State Government” directed the convention to elect a governor, lieutenant governor, and a five-member governor's council. A rump legislature, consisting of loyal Unionists elected to Virginia's General Assembly on May 23, would be formed.196
Die-hard advocates continued to pursue statehood, but John Carlile skillfully parried them. “In relation to this thing of dividing,” he retorted, “I find that even I, who first started the little stone down the mountain, have now to apply the rubbers to other gentlemen who have outrun me in the race, to check their impetuosity.”
“Now Sir, let us pursue the policy laid down in the Declaration,” Carlile said, “and let us repudiate Letcher and his transfer; let us assemble a Legislature here…and let that Legislature be recognized by the United States Government as the Legislature of Virginia…. Give us that recognition, and then the separation will come.” Then might Western Virginians demand of their brothers and sisters over the mountains, “Let this line be drawn between us.”197
On June 17, Frank Pierpont made a tone-setting speech prior to a vote on the “Declaration of Rights.” Pierpont called their plan the “brightest scheme” for loyal Virginians, one that could be used as a model for other seceded states. He assured the delegates that President Lincoln and the Congress would recognize theirs as the “rightful government” of Virginia. The Declaration of Rights was then approved by a vote of fifty-six to zero. John Carlile hailed it as an omen—there had also been fifty-six signers to the Declaration of Independence.198
Delegates voted to adopt the Reorganization Ordinance on June 19. They signed the Declaration of Rights in solemn ritual, added the phrase “Liberty and Union” to Virginia's state seal and proudly forwarded copies to Washington. The “Restored Government” of Virginia was born.199
Frank Pierpont was unaminously elected governor the next day. Governor Pierpont began his term with few trappings of rank. His office consisted of a vacant room in the Custom House. A bare table, half quire of paper, pen, and ink were his only furnishings. A friend remarked that he might be the first public official ever to “thank men for putting a rope around his neck.”
Pierpont addressed a letter to President Lincoln, writing of events at Wheeling, of the crisis in Virginia, and of the need for Federal troops to maintain law and order. He signed that letter “F.H. Pierpont, Governor of Virginia.”200
Few American executives ever faced Governor Pierpont's dilemma. The Restored Government had little real authority. Secessionists remained in control of most state and local offices. There were bills to be paid, yet Pierpont's government had no money. Early on the mor
ning of June 24, he sought to withdraw five thousand dollars apiece from two Wheeling banks. When a cashier balked, Pierpont explained the risk in his matter-of-fact way: “If my government succeeds you are sure of your money. If it does not succeed, your money is not worth a bubble.” He secured the loans and went on to reap more than $41,000 in Federal notes that Virginia had neglected to appropriate.
Pierpont's fund-raising was capped by a spectacular raid on $27,000 in gold. The Exchange Bank of Weston held that treasure trove, deposited by the state to pay for construction of a “Lunatic Asylum.” When rumors reached Pierpont of intentions by that other governor of Virginia to seize the gold, he sent John List of Wheeling to claim it for the Restored Government. Colonel Erastus B. Tyler's Seventh Ohio Infantry accompanied List to Weston, snapped up the gold, and escorted it to Clarksburg in a hearse. It was the heaviest guarded “funeral” procession ever seen in Western Virginia.201
The Second Wheeling Convention adjourned on June 25, 1861. In twelve days of debate, Virginia Unionists had sketched out a new state government. They would reconvene on August 6 to take up the issue deftly sidestepped—creation of a new state.202
A dispatch from Secretary of War Simon Cameron soon brought cherished news to Wheeling. “The President,” wrote Cameron, “never supposed that a brave and free people, though surprised and unarmed, could long be subjugated by a class of political adventurers always adverse to them, and the fact that they have already rallied, reorganized their government, and checked the march of these invaders demonstrates how justly he appreciated them.”
The letter was addressed to “Hon. Francis H. Pierpont, Governor of the State of Virginia.” It was tacit Federal recognition of the Restored Government.203
CHAPTER 8
A DREARY-HEARTED
GENERAL
“I don't anticipate anything very brilliant—indeed I shall esteem myself fortunate if I escape disaster. “
—Robert S. Garnett, C.S.A.
Alarming dispatches poured into Richmond from over the mountains. “The affair at Philippi was a disgraceful surprise,” General Robert E. Lee was notified. “The only wonder is that our men were not cut to pieces.” Colonel Porterfield's Confederates had fled to Huttonsville, a crossroads hamlet about forty miles south of Philippi. They were not to be blamed for running, insisted one officer. What he blamed them for was that “they didn't stop running when the Yankees stopped.”
Virginian John Cammack spoke for many of those demoralized Confederates: “It seems to me that if Colonel Porterfield had set out to help McClellan he could not have done it any more successfully than he did.” A respected officer informed Lee, “I am pained to have to express my conviction that Colonel Porterfield is entirely unequal to the position which he occupies.”204
A court of inquiry charged Porterfield with negligence. However, General Lee ruled out court-martial proceedings. He considered the inquiry punishment enough—hoping “that the sad effects produced by the want of forethought and vigilance…in this case,” would be “a lesson to be remembered by the army throughout the war.”205
Lee faced trials of his own. A June 8 proclamation by the governor handed Virginia's military forces over to the Confederate States and terminated Lee's duty as general-in-chief. Overnight, he became a brigadier general in the Confederate army—the highest rank then existing—but an officer without assignment. Lee remained in Richmond as a personal advisor to Confederate President Jefferson Davis. The dignified president, a longtime friend, supported him with “unqualified confidence.”206
Something had to be done for Western Virginia before the entire region was lost. In that spirit, Lee turned to his adjutant, Robert Garnett, the only qualified officer not already in the field, and one of the most capable in the Confederacy.
Robert Selden Garnett was forty-one years old, just under six feet tall, trim, and stern. His hair was nearly coal black, worn long on the neck in a style popular with Virginia's elite. His closely cropped beard was slightly grizzled with white. His forehead was high and arching, his darkly handsome features “almost classic in their regularity and mingled delicacy.”207
Garnett's pedigree was rich in arms and aristocracy. His ancestors included a French general, a countess, and a major general in the War of 1812. His father was a five-term Virginia Congressman, his cousin the personal physician of Jefferson Davis.
Garnett's résumé was stellar. He had graduated at West Point, class of 1841, and served as an instructor of tactics. As an aide to General Zachary Taylor in the Mexican War, he had been twice brevetted for gallantry. In 1849, while shipwrecked during an important mission to California, he designed the state's Great Seal. Garnett returned to West Point as commandant of cadets under Robert E. Lee. In 1857, he married a fair-haired New York socialite named Marianna Nelson and escorted her to Fort Simcoe, Washington Territory.
But Garnett's happiness was short-lived. Returning from an expedition the next year, he found Marianna and an infant son dead of “bilious fever.” Described as proud, reserved, and “cold as an icicle,” Garnett became “more frozen and stern and isolated than ever.” He buried his family, took extended leave, and returned to duty in a Confederate uniform—as adjutant general of Virginia forces.208
The army became his life. “In every one else,” a fellow officer remarked, “I have seen some mere human traits, but in Garnett every trait was purely military.” A future general described him as “brave, intelligent, impartial…truthful and full of energy.” That talent was badly needed in Western Virginia—Garnett received a brigadier's star and was sent into the mountains. But he remained a “dreary-hearted man.” The night before Garnett left Richmond, a staff officer heard him utter, “They have not given me an adequate force. I can do nothing. They have sent me to my death.”209
The scene at Huttonsville must have mortified the spit-and-polish Garnett. There he found twenty-three Confederate companies “in a most miserable condition as to arms, clothing, equipment and discipline.” From them he formed two regiments—the Twenty-fifth Virginia Infantry, led by Lt. Colonel Jonathan Heck, a Morgantown attorney, and the Thirty-first Virginia Infantry, headed by Lt. Colonel William L. Jackson, a former lieutenant governor of Virginia, with the remainder filling Lt. Colonel George Hansbrough's Ninth Virginia Battalion.210
Garnett's directive was to halt the Federal advance into Virginia. He hoped as well to strike the B&O Railroad, an important east-west Union supply line. General Lee's desire had been succinct: “The rupture of the railroad at Cheat River would be worth to us an army.”
Two mountain passes were the keys to Garnett's defense—one on the Staunton-Parkersburg Turnpike over Rich Mountain, another sixteen miles north on the Beverly-Fairmont Road at Laurel Hill. He called them the “gates to the northwestern country.”
On June 15, Garnett marched north. Lt. Colonel Heck's Twenty-fifth Virginia Infantry, two guns, and a squad of cavalry seized the pass over Rich Mountain. The next day Garnett occupied Laurel Hill with the Thirty-first Virginia Infantry, a company of cavalry and six pieces of artillery. His first impression was disappointing; the pass at Laurel Hill was “not so formidable” as he had been told.
Rich Mountain offered more promising terrain. The Staunton-Parkersburg Turnpike wound through a narrow defile at the mountain's western base. Garnett believed a fortified detachment there should be able to hold back “five times their number.” On the slopes, Confederate soldiers built fortifications as he watched. “General Garnett has the confidence of everybody,” wrote Lt. Colonel Heck, “He is the very man for the Northwest.” In his honor, the works at Rich Mountain were named “Camp Garnett.”211
Returning to Laurel Hill, the general established headquarters. His tenuous supply line stretched more than one hundred turnpike miles over the mountains to Staunton. Garnett barricaded roads along his flanks and sent out heavy escorts to gather forage as the troops dug in. He found it difficult to obtain reliable intelligence. “The enemy are kept fully advised of
our movements…by the country people,” he complained, “while we are compelled to grope in the dark as much as if we were invading a foreign country.”
Garnett put the volunteers under rigorous drill and instruction. While standing guard one dark night, John Cammack halted Major Joseph Chenoweth, son of the Philippi bridge builder. The two engaged in pleasantries until Chenoweth asked to handle Cammack's musket. When Cammack refused, Chenoweth stormed off in anger. Cammack was relieved to learn he had acted properly; the major had received the arms of two other pickets—landing them in serious trouble.212
Reinforcements began to appear in Garnett's camps. From the east came Colonel William B. Taliaferro's Twenty-third Virginia Infantry, Colonel Samuel V. Fulkerson's Thirty-seventh Virginia Infantry, a portion of the Twentieth Virginia Infantry, and Colonel James N. Ramsey's First Georgia Infantry. The Georgians created a sensation at Camp Laurel Hill. Led by a snappy fife-and-drum corps, they were handsomely uniformed and equipped—with imported cloth, silver, and body servants to attend every need. The veteran Colonel Taliaferro thought they had left home prepared “rather for a gay holiday than for real war.”
Rebels at the Gate: Lee and McClellan on the Front Line of a Nation Divided Page 9