Address delivered before the Confederate Survivor's Association of Augusta, Georgia : upon the occasion of its seventeenth annual reunion, on Memorial Day, April 26th, 1895 / by Captain F. Edgeworth Eve, President of the Association; and the historian's report submitted by Charles Edgeworth Jones. Together with Colonel Joseph B. Cumming's speech introducing General M.C. Butler, General Butler's narrative, and John R. Thompson's poem, "Lee to the rear"

ADDRESS
DELIVERED BEFORE THE
Confederate Survivors' Association
OF AUGUSTA, GEORGIA
UPON THE OCCASION OF ITS
Seventeenth Annual Reunion,
ON
MEMORIAL DAY, APRIL 26TH, 1895,
BY
CAPTAIN F. EDGEWORTH EVE,
President of the Association;
AND THE
HISTORIAN'S REPORT,
SUBMITTED BY
CHARLES EDGEWORTH JONES.
TOGETHER WITH
COLONEL JOSEPH B. CUMMING'S SPEECH INTRODUCING
GENERAL M. C. BUTLER, GENERAL BUTLER'S NARRATIVE,
AND JOHN R. THOMPSON'S POEM,
"LEE TO THE REAR."
PRINTED BY ORDER OF THE ASSOCIATION.
AUGUSTA, GA.
Chronicle Job Printing Company.
1895.
Chapter 1

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PRESIDENT'S ADDRESS.

The ladies and gentlemen who have honored us with their presence are most welcome.

Comrades:

The custom that has obtained since our organization for the President to deliver an annual address was altered at the last election of officers of our Association, not only by resolution, but so as there could be no mistake as to the wish of the Association on this point, the creating of a historian, and another resolution to select an orator for the day--plainly demonstrating, gentlemen, that you did not wish to hear from this President, at least. With this fact staring me in the face, I can say but few words and retain my self-respect. I will, in the briefest manner, however, call your attention to a very serious matter that threatens the life of our Association.

First, to the non-attendance and indifference of most of the officers of this Association to our called meetings. If our officers show no interest in the proceedings of the Confederate Survivors' Association, how can they expect the members to do so? Who among you ever knew of a regiment that gained any reputation during the war, if the officers were not present for duty? If they are not willing to do their duty, why accept the office? We want no officers for dress parade only. If they belong to other societies or associations which they regard as of more importance

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than this--have obligations more sacred--content, as they often tell me, to agree to what is done by us who are present--have but a few moments to spare, no matter at what hour the meeting is called for their convenience,--why hold office, and set the example of indifference to the men? The existence of our organization depends, in my judgment, upon a radical change in this particular, or I should not have referred to it; and I respectfully call your attention to it at this meeting.

Sentiment alone binds us together. We have no fines of absentees, or for non-payment of dues. If any of our members do not wish to pay a cent to the support of this Association, or attend any meeting, so they do, and rate as high as these who are faithful members; and I am glad to be able to say we have a few, who are as prompt to respond to the call now as they were when an extra tour of guard duty or a fence rail was the penalty. Such officers are an injury--are detrimental to the efficiency of any association--more especially one whose life is dependent upon the interest taken.

We should be the First Confederate Survivors' Association in every particular, as we are the oldest, by many years, at least, in the State of Georgia. That I have failed so signally, gentlemen, in keeping you up to the standard is my misfortune. I sincerely trust my successor may be more heartily supported.

Second, our hall is entirely too small--uncomfortable--unattractive. The steps are too steep for our old and wounded comrades to climb. Our pictures and relics are scattered around, no place to hang the one or preserve the other, that some day, in another generation, perchance, will be invaluable. They cannot be replaced. A society that should have, from its numbers, and the rich men's names it bears upon its rolls, and the years of its existence, thousands of dollars in its treasury, from the apathy first of its officers, secondly of its members, not as many hundreds; and sub-renting a room, when it could have and should

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own a building equal to the one we are now in (Montgomery Building), and the rents therefrom would support our Association until the last member answered to the final rollcall, and then be bequeathed to the Sons of Veterans, who have shown nearly as much interest, from what I have seen, in their organization, as you have in yours.

To your Historian you look for the records of interest to you; and we have, at the request of our most honored honorary members, "The Ladies' Memorial Association," whom we are always only too glad to serve, invited that grand old hero, General M. C. Butler, to deliver the address. So, gentlemen, apologizing for the necessity of detaining you so long, I will beg the Historian to proceed.
Chapter 2

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HISTORIAN'S REPORT.

Comrades:

In presenting this, my Second Report as Historian of your time-honored organization, I desire to remind you that sixteen of those, whose genial faces were greeted at your last annual convocation, are absent to-day.

On the 29th of April, 1894, Alexander C. Guedron, Private in Richmond Hussars, Cobb's Legion, Young's Brigade, Hampton's Division, Army of Northern Virginia--a brave soldier and dashing cavalryman--was called to his eternal reward.

On the 11th of the sequent July you followed to the tomb all that was mortal of John E. Bostick, Sergeant in Company, H, Austin's Battalion of Sharpshooters, Gibson's Brigade, Breckinridge's Division, D. H. Hill's Corps, Army of Tennessee; and only a few weeks later you were apprised of the death in North Carolina of Lawrence A. Adams, Private in Company A, Rutledge Mounted Rifles of South Carolina, whose final summons came on the 28th of last August. Possessed of fine business capacity, and for many years prominently identified with the cotton interests of this city, his loss was generally deplored.

Just eleven days prior to his demise, the people of Georgia were shocked by the melancholy intelligence that the soul of William A. Harris, Lieutenant-Colonel of 14th Georgia Regiment--a bright link in the chain of your fraternity,--had ascended to the stars. The efficient Secretary of the Georgia State Senate since 1875, and for nearly half a century an active participant in public affairs,--he having served as a volunteer in the Mexican war,--his popularity throughout the Commonwealth was proverbial, and when he appeared at the Gubernatorial Convention last

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summer, figuring conspicuously in its deliberations, none dreamt that his magnetic and attractive personality would so soon be claimed for higher spheres.

Less than a month and a half had elapsed before you were again called upon to pay your last tribute of respect to another of your valued comrades. On the 30th of September W. M. Baxley, who saw gallant service as Color Bearer in Company A, of First South Carolina Volunteers, McGowan's Brigade, A. P. Hill's Division, Jackson's Corps, Army of Northern Virginia, marshalled out of the ranks of the living, was joined to the beatific throng that peoples the further shore.

Only two days later Thomas J. Bostic, Captain of Company A, 43d Regiment of North Carolina Infantry, Daniel's Brigade, Rodes' Division, Second Corps, Army of Northern Virginia, terminated his earthly career. An esteemed officer of this Association, and a devoted member, proudly cherishing his connection with it almost from its inception, his familiar features will be sadly missed at your gatherings now that his stalwart spirit is at rest.

On the 12th of October James R. Vaughan, Private in Company D, Tenth Georgia Regiment, Semmes' Brigade, McLaws' Division, Army of Northern Virginia, fell on sleep; and only six days afterward the death of John P. Bignon, Private in Washington Artillery of Charleston, Army of Tennessee,--who had for more than sixteen years enjoyed the privileges of your patriotic Order,--was sorrowfully recorded.

On the 9th of the following month Richard J. May, Private in Company C, First Georgia Regulars, Anderson's Brigade, Jones' Division, Longstreet's Corps, Army of Northern Virginia, entered the realm of shadows; and little more than a fortnight had flown when John T. Newbery, Private in Company D, First Regiment of Georgia Infantry--a prominent financier and an exemplary Christian,--was added to the silent majority.

And on the 10th of January, 1895, Andrew J. Smith,

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Major of Company I, Fifty-seventh Virginia Infantry, Armistead's Brigade, Huger's Division, Army of Northern Virginia,--long recognized as an influential factor in the commercial transactions alike of Augusta and of the State at large,--was accorded release from bodily suffering, and, as the reward of an upright life, the blessing of never ending repose.

On the 5th of the sequent month, George W. Crane, Major and Assistant Quartermaster in Heth's Division, Army of Northern Virginia,--generous, public-spirited and popular, sincerely esteemed as friend and comrade, and highly respected for his qualities in the business world,--in the midst of an energetic and useful life, bade adieu to these earthly scenes.

A few weeks later another strand in the bond uniting the members of your Association was severed, and on the 28th of February John J. Lee, Private in Hart's Battery, Hampton's Brigade, Army of Northern Virginia, suddenly closed his eyes on this troublous and sorrow-laden world.

On the 22d of March John D. Munnerlyn, Private in Company F, Jefferson Davis Legion of Cavalry, Young's Brigade, Butler's Division, Hampton's Corps, Army of Northern Virginia,--generous in his impulses, and zealous in his devotion to Confederate memories,--returned his genial spirit to the divine Master who gave it.

Finally, James M. Roberts, 2nd Lieutenant of Washington Artillery, Jackson's Brigade, Withers' Division, Polk's Corps, Army of Tennessee, ended his earthly pilgrimage on the 5th of the present month; while on the 24th instant, George Seth Butler, who had served as Private in Company I., 2nd South Carolina Cavalry, Army of Tennessee, leaving behind him the savour of a well-spent life, went to join the Bivouac of the Dead.

----

Sic ad finem. And so must these painful separations continue, and these necrological gaps in the circle of your

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present companionship yearly multiply, until one day the glad cry of all here! shall be wafted from the celestial shores.

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The demise in 1894 of Senators Alfred H. Colquitt and Zebulon B. Vance, of Georgia and North Carolina respectively, removed from the sphere of mundane usefulness two of the worthies upon whom the compliment of honorary membership in your Association had been bestowed. The honorary roll of your Society still bears the names of the following prominent Confederates, to-wit: Lieutenant-General John B. Gordon, Major-General Lafayette McLaws and Brigadier General Alfred Cumming, of Georgia; Lieutenant-General Wade Hampton and Major-General M. C. Butler, of South Carolina; Major-General Matt W. Ransom, of North Carolina; Brigadier-General Francis T. Nicholls, of Louisiana; and Hon. F. W. M. Holliday, of Virginia. To each and all of them on this Memorial Day we extend our cordial and respectful salutations, giving utterance to the hope that their honored lives may long be spared, and assuring them that their valued services in the times which tried men's souls are held in grateful and ever present remembrance.

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Permit me here to state that, during the seventeen years of your existence as an organization, six hundred and forty-two members have been received into your Association. Of that number one hundred and eighty-four have, through death or otherwise, been withdrawn, and the roll of your Society now contains the names of four hundred and fifty-eight active members.

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Outside the limits of your Association, many prominent Confederates have, during the past twelve-month, responded to the final roll-call.

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Among them may be mentioned Brigadier-General Philip Cook, of Georgia, hero of two wars, who for a decade represented his Commonwealth in the Lower House of the National Legislature, and who, at the time of his demise, was occupying in Georgia the position of Secretary of State; the Honorable Lewis M. Ayer, of South Carolina, a sturdy secessionist, and a member of the Confederate Congress; Major-General William W. Allen, of Alabama, who, passing through the grades of cavalry officer amid the shock of arms, was valorously associated with the Army of the West; the Honorable James L. Alcorn, of Mississippi, Brigadier-General of State Troops during the Confederacy, and since the war the recipient of the highest political honors within the gift of his Commonwealth, holding office as Governor of Mississippi, and as Senatorial Representative of the Bayou State in the Halls of Congress; Brigadier-General Rufus Barringer, of North Carolina, whose cavalry record was achieved amid the smoke and carnage of the Army of Northern Virginia; the Honorable William M. Brooks, of Alabama, one of the ablest lawyers of that Commonwealth, who as Delegate to the Charleston Convention of 1860, and as President of Alabama's Secession Convention, rendered service patriotic and most valuable; Brigadier-General Thomas Jordan,1. of Virginia, the gallant Chief of Staff to General Beauregard, whose brilliant military career, identifying him with four wars, is well remembered; the Honorable Thomas A. Harris, of Missouri, a Colonel in the Mexican War, who at first as Brigadier-General in the Missouri State Guard, and then as a member of the Confederate Congress, demonstrated his entire sympathy for the Cause in behalf of which the Southland heroically contended during four long and bloody years; Major-General James L. Kemper, of Virginia, a distinguished participant in two wars, who

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since the conclusion of the Confederate Revolution has been honored by election as Chief Executive of the Old Dominion Commonwealth; the Honorable A. M. West, of Mississippi, Brigadier-General of State Troops during the Confederacy, whose political prominence has been emphasized by his selection as Vice-Presidential standard-bearer on the Labor Ticket in the campaign of 1884; Brigadier-General M. D. Corse, of Virginia, who won in the Mexican war the reputation for gallantry which he so nobly maintained throughout the Confederate struggle for independence; and the Honorable Joseph E. Brown, of Georgia, perhaps, the most famous of our Confederate War Governors, whose career from inception to close was one of the most strengthful to which his Commonwealth could lay claim. His irresistible will-power and his wonderful tenacity of purpose were what constituted the secret of his success. Well may we say of him, in the language of Samuel Johnson:"

A frame of adamant, a soul of fire;
No dangers fright him, and no labors tire.

"

His was a personality which formed its plans with far-reaching sagacity, and executed them through overmastering determination.

State Senator at twenty-eight, he was six years later complimented with election as Circuit Judge, from which position he was speedily advanced to the Chief Magistracy of the Commonwealth. His administration of the Gubernatorial office for the four terms commencing with 1857 and ending in 1865, harmonized with his sturdy nature, and was characterized throughout by an ability which rose far above the common level. Those were stirring times in which his political lot was cast, and he proved himself worthy of the confidence so unreservedly reposed. He was not a War Governor in name, merely, but in stern and efficient reality; not a theoretic Commander-in-Chief of the State Military, but one prompt in taking the initiative so

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soon as he was convinced that the storm was up, and all was on the hazard.

Shortly after the termination of hostilities, Ex-Governor Brown was again remanded to the public service, and in 1868 was honored by appointment as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Georgia. As such he continued, wearing with distinction the judicial ermine, until 1870, when he retired into private life. A decade later he was entrusted with the high office of Senator from Georgia in the Congress of the United States, and his unremitting and valued labors in that important capacity extended over a period of eleven years. Upon the conclusion of his term, voluntarily withdrawing from the arena which had witnessed so many of his triumphs, he sought the otium cum dignitate which belongs to him who has fought the good fight usefully, and has finished his conspicuous course successfully.

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In accordance with a custom of several years' standing, the Fourth of last July was set apart as the occasion for one of your Association's barbecues. The necessary arrangements having been perfected, you enjoyed at Exposition Hall a generous collation, where, amid the friendly interchange of sentiments and the offering of patriotic toasts, several feeling speeches were made, paying homage to Confederate memories, and harmonizing fully with the fundamental purpose of the gathering. Altogether, the mid-summer holiday was pleasantly and appropriately spent.

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On the 19th of last January--a date forever sacred in the eyes of Confederates because of its identification with the nativity of the peerless Robert E. Lee,--Colonel Robert P. Duncan, a Georgian by birth, but now a resident of Louisville,

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Kentucky, who bore himself worthily during the conflict between the States, delivered, under the auspices of your Association, a lecture celebrating the character and services of that canonized commander. The title of his discourse was Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia, and his able and exhaustive discussion of that patriotic theme commended itself to the approval of all whose privilege it was to attend. The speaker was introduced, in spirited and becoming style, by your esteemed President, Captain F. Edgeworth Eve.

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To-day, thirty years ago, was held near Durham's Station, in North Carolina, the Military Convention by the terms of which the final surrender of General Joseph E. Johnston's Army was consummated; and a little more than a fortnight back the completion of the third decade since General Lee's memorable surrender at Appomatox Court House, in Virginia, was silently chronicled. Thus do we see that the Southland's struggle for independence, the incidents of which are still fresh in the recollections of many here assembled, will soon be, at best, but a glorious memory; while those who contended so fearlessly for the reserved rights of the States, disappearing from the stage of earthly action, will soon live only in brave tradition, and in the imperishable record that the Muse of History has preserved of the greatest of defensive wars.

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With the recurrence of each Memorial Season, our minds are instinctively filled with thoughts of a Confederate Past, and with recollections of those whose valor immortalized our beloved Uniform. The following lines, beautiful, by reason of their pathos, will appeal to all present, reflecting as they do sentiments grateful to the heart of every true patriot:

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"

"Well, hang up the old gray coat, wife;
I really do not know
If ever in all the years to come
I will wear it again any more.
But if you're the longest liver, mind,
Put it on me when I'm dead,
And bury my musket and old canteen
With me in my narrow bed.

"I wish to be known for just what I was
When I rise up at the Judgment Day;
I wish them to say: 'there's an old Confed,
And he's wearing the same old gray.'
I never was ashamed of it yet, and that's
Not all--I never shall be;
For the proudest years of my life, at last,
Were the years when I followed Lee.

"

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Magruder had fortified his lines with very heavy earthworks, forts and entrenchments, and they were strengthened on the arrival of General Johnston with his reinforcements, so that from the York River on the east, to the James River on the south and west, there was a strong line of defensive works. McClellan, the Federal Commander, confronted Johnston with a powerful, well-equipped and disciplined army, with his base of operations at Fortress Monroe, and adjacent points, supported by a strong naval force in the adjoining waters. An examination of the map will show what a vantage ground he had; a powerful fortress and vessels of war in his immediate rear, with nothing to threaten or disturb his base of supplies, with two large navigable rivers on both of Johnston's flanks. Johnston had no naval support, none of account, with a long line of communication to his base, Richmond.

McClellan, however, must have concluded Johnston's position was too strong to be carried by direct assault, so he sat down in front of him, and began a siege by parallels, and no doubt would eventually have prevailed with his great advantage of position and marine support.

General Johnston realized McClellan's superior strategic position, with both flanks more or less exposed to attack from the Federal war ships, while he was receiving an attack in front, and decided to evacuate his works, and move back on Richmond. The retreat began on May 3d, 1862. General G. W. Smith had charge of the line of retreat on the York River side, and, I believe, General Longstreet on the James River side. At that time I commanded a battalion of four companies of cavalry, encamped at Whitaker's Mill, about three miles back of Yorktown.

In the order of march, I was assigned the duty of bringing up the rear of Smith's division, consisting of Whiting's, Hood's and Hampton's brigades of infantry and several batteries of light artillery. I trust I may be pardoned for this reference to myself, but it is necessary, to make my statement intelligible.

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The general order, of which a copy was delivered to me, directed that Whiting, in immediate command of his own, and the other two brigades, Hood's and Hampton's, should follow D. H. Hill's division, that Hill would move at sunset on the evening of the 3d of May, and that I should bring up Whiting's rear with the cavalry. Whiting moved out about two miles from Yorktown on the Williamsburg road, and halted for Hill's departure. He sent me in to report when Hill had left. I accordingly rode into Yorktown between sunset and dusk and found Hill had broken camp. Everything was astir as Hill moved out, and I so reported to Whiting. Here was the beginning of my troubles for the night.

As I rode along the streets of this antiquated and celebrated town, a small boy, I suppose some drummer boy of Hill's division, yelled out to me at the top of his voice, "Look out, sir, a torpedo has been planted in front of you." I looked down and, sure enough, just in front of me I discovered the fresh earth where the boy said the torpedo had been planted. My horse's feet could not have missed it twelve inches, and, it goes without saying, I gave a wide birth to it afterwards, and required no further admonition to look out for fresh earth as long as I remained thereabouts that evening.

It was also provided in the general order that a "desultory fire" should be kept up by our artillerymen on McClellan's works until 9 o'clock that night, so as to cover the retreat, when the gunners were to move rapidly out and join their commander. When the firing ceased, Whiting was to break up his bivouac and follow towards Williamsburg.

Inasmuch as we were to march in the night time, a night signal, of three claps of the hands, answered by three whistles was incorporated in the order of march, so that we might distinguish friend from foe.

The night was quite cool, and Whiting had a blazing fire kindled in an open field, around which gathered Whiting,

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Hood, Hampton, several others and myself, awaiting the signal--the cessation of the artillery fire at Yorktown--we waited and waited and waited. The hour of nine had passed and still we could hear an occasional shot, until about midnight. I returned to my bivouac in the edge of an adjacent wood, and had just curled myself under a tree lap, with my saddle for a pillow, to snatch a brief nap, when, to add to the pleasures of the situation, a courier rode up with an order from General Whiting to report to him at once with a mounted detachment. I accordingly ordered out Captain McFie with about forty men, and promptly reported. He directed me to proceed at once to Yorktown, have the town and forts patrolled, and ascertain what the firing meant, that he had been notified would cease at 9 o'clock. It was then after midnight and the "desultory fire" was still kept up.

Imagine the prospect of riding into and through a town in the small hours of a dark night, where I learned the deadly torpedo had been planted for the benefit of the incoming army. There was nothing else to do. When I rode into the town, and as I then apprehended "into the jaws of death," there was not a sound, not a light, except in a vacated hospital on the principal street. On examination the hospital was found to contain two contrabands--negroes--who were awaiting the arrival of their deliverers. Sending them to the rear was the work of a very few minutes. We continued our explorations through the town and below, to the main line of fortifications. The stillness and darkness of the place was dismal, oppressive, aggravated, and intensified by the contrast with the scene the last time I had visited it about sunset, when all was bustle and haste; and also by the crop of torpedos, lurking, we knew not where.

There was no firing, no human being apart from our own detachment. Thinking, perhaps, our cannoneers might have mistaken us for Federal cavalry and concealed themselves, I dismounted, moved alone through the abandoned

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Confederate camp where the "A" tents left standing had been cut into shreds, and their tattered walls flapped listlessly in the night breeze. I climbed to the top of the fortifications and gave the night signal, but received in return not a sound. I could hear the rumbling noise from McClellan's camps, as he was digging away on his approaches. Returning to the courier, McTear, who was holding my horse, I was just in the act of mounting when I observed a flash in the water, where the Federal fleet was anchored, and in an instant a meteor-like light described the arc of a circle in the heavens, and much quicker than it takes me to tell it, a huge shell exploded not more than forty feet from us. To say that we were demoralized by this sudden and unexpected explosion, so uncomfortably near, would be a very mild way of putting it.

This unwelcome messenger from the enemy's vessels, explained the mystery. Our men had ceased firing at 9 o'clock, but the cannoneers of the Federal fleet had not, and that is what misled Whiting and all of us. I need not say to any old soldier in this audience, we did not let the grass grow under our feet getting out of Yorktown that night, notwithstanding the budding crop of torpedos. I, however, dispatched McTear in haste to inform General Whiting that the firing we had heard was from the enemy's vessels, and followed as rapidly as we dared, sending Lieutenant John T. Rhett with six men along the beach of York River to patrol that part of the town to make sure that there was no enemy lurking there.

Just before reaching the outlet through the entrenchments, or sort of sally-port on the upper side of the town, a very amusing but natural alarm occurred. We were moving along at a rapid walk in columns of fours, when Captain McFie, at the head of the column near me, knocked his pipe on the pummel of his saddle. The sparks dropped on each side, and as if by instinct, men and horses filed off suddenly to the right and left, imagining we had at last struck a torpedo. Happily it was a false alarm.

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In a very few minutes we encountered another peril, in fact, it may be said it was a night of perils and a chapter of incidents. We had scarcely cleared the main entrenchment above Yorktown, when we were hailed by one of those threatening salutations, rendered almost weird and fierce by the "solemn stillness" of the night--"Who comes there?" Now, mind you, we had passed down this same road not more than an hour before this, perhaps not so long, and I had not been notified that any other Confederate was to be at or near Yorktown, and as it turned out the officer whom I met had no knowledge of our being there. So you may imagine our mutual surprise. Fortunately, I had ridden a little in advance of the column after the pipe incident, and thus received the challenge in person. I replied in the usual way, "A friend with the countersign." The man had either not been informed of the night signal, or had forgotten it. He yelled out again, "Who comes there?" I replied again in tone and language, not as gentle as would be used in the boudoir of a fair lady, "Friend with the countersign, why don't you order me to dismount, advance and give the countersign?" Meantime I was advancing, imagining I heard the click of his carbine. Finally I got near him and told him who I was. There was relief on both sides, for it turned out that the man was a vidette from the Tenth Virginia Cavalry. He informed me his regiment was just at the foot of the hill, and that he had been posted there by order of Colonel J. Lucius Davis--as gallant a gentleman as ever wielded a sabre. I found the tenth Virginia with men all dismounted, at a wharf or landing destroying quartermaster stores.

Colonel Davis and myself exchanged greetings, and I passed on to report to Whiting. Not far from the wharf or landing, just south of it, was a newly built house, which, I was informed, was an ordnance store-house, with fixed ammunition and other ordnance stores.

When we had proceeded about two hundred yards from where we had parted with Colonel Davis, we heard a loud

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explosion, followed by what appeared to be successive volleys of musketry--about where we had so recently left the Tenth Virginia. I was struck by surprise and bewilderment, as you may well imagine. I am sure not more than ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed since I had patrolled the town without finding the enemy, and a brief five minutes since I had made my parting salutations to Colonel Davis, and yet the indications were that he was being savagely attacked. I at once dispatched a messenger to him, saying I would return to his aid if necessary, and he desired it. Very soon the second mystery was explained. He sent me word he was not being attacked, that he had sent three men to destroy the ordnance store-house, and when they pushed the door to enter, an "infernal machine" fixed there to catch the Yankees, had gone off, killed one of his men and wounded another. In addition to this, it had ignited the ammunition which went off in volleys, and waked the echoes for miles.

We pushed on toward General Whiting, and had not proceeded far, when we encountered another "lone sentinel," who challenged me more fiercely than the first. This time it was an infantryman. I believe our "web-footed" friends say they are more dangerous than the "critter companies," but I had about the same experience with the foot soldier that I had with the cavalryman. We finally got by this trouble to encounter a more dangerous and threatening one--not that we could not have taken care of one man, but if a shot had been fired under the circumstances, it is difficult to say what would have happened.

The third and last "call," was from a company of infantry. The men were deployed across the fork in the road. It was fortunately getting a little light. The first streaks of the early dawn were breaking. The officer in charge hearing the volleys from the column approaching from the direction of the enemy, naturally supposed we were enemies. His men had their guns cocked, ready to fire, when he recognized us. What a deliverance! I explained

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what might be regarded a "comedy of errors," but for the deadly work of the "infernal machine," and sought Whiting. Hood, Hampton and himself had been startled by what they supposed was musketry firing and were mounted, rapidly making their dispositions for a fight. Troops were deployed in line of battle, batteries stationed, ambulances and supply trains ordered to the rear, and the field bristled with bayonets. After learning the true state of affairs, breaking the line into columns and heading towards Williamsburg with a swinging stride, was the work of a few minutes.

After his column got fairly under way, Whiting sent me back to the vicinity of Yorktown. Halting on the hill where we first heard the ordnance house volleys, about sunrise I heard the shouts of McClellan's troops, when doubtless they were aroused by the work of the "infernal machine," and apprised of our departure. So that instead of forty-eight hours, it was not twelve before McClellan must have known of the evacuation. How long it might have been but for the "infernal machine," of course, is a matter of conjecture, but the facts are as I have related them.

The only criticism to which I think McClellan is amenable was that he did not have a flying column mobilized and ready to advance promptly and overtake Johnston's retreating army. I brought up the rear of G. W. Smith's command, Pender's Regiment of Whiting's Brigade holding the rear of the infantry column. We moved leisurely the entire day of the 4th of May, frequently halting at long intervals, and were not approached by the enemy until late that afternoon in the neighborhood of Williamsburg, which, as I now remember, is nine miles from Yorktown. About 4 p. m., I was joined by Colonel J. Lucius Davis with his Tenth Regiment of Virginians, and Lieutenant-Colonel, afterwards Brigadier-General W. C. Wickham with the Fourth Virginia Cavalry, my battalion being still in the rear. We observed across a wide, open field a line of

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mounted skirmishers, deployed in perfect order, covering the entire field. I appealed to Colonel Davis, the ranking officer present, to be allowed to charge them with my four companies, but he would not consent, and the approaching line did not advance, but was content with firing a few shots at long range. We leisurely withdrew, passed Fort Magruder, and drew up in a line in an open field near Williamsburg. We had scarcely dismounted, standing to horse, when a messenger came at full speed saying General Johnston wanted the cavalry. To mount and be off in a gallop was a movement quickly executed. My command, happening to be nearest, and therefore the first to receive the order, took the advance.

General Johnston and his staff were standing on the roadside, not far from Fort Magruder, a strong earthwork occupied by McLaws' Brigade. General Johnston ordered me to report to General McLaws at the fort. McLaws pointed to about four squadrons of Federal cavalry drawn up in an apple orchard some three hundred yards north of the fort, and said, "I want you to drive that cavalry away." We made at them, put them to flight and drove them pell mell across a ravine very wet and boggy, many of their horses floundering in the mud, and captured seventeen men and horses. Pursuing up the other declivity we ran into their reserves, the United States Second Dragoons. The whole regiment then made for my four companies, and it came our time to get back. At one time we were mixed up with the Federals, and it was one of the very few occasions during the war that I ever saw an opportunity to use the sabre.

Night coming on, we retired to our bivouacs, for much needed rest and food for men and animals. The next day the battle of Williamsburg was fought, but I will not attempt an account of that, as I fear your patience is fatigued already by too much detail.

The point I desire to bring out by this narrative is that forty-eight hours did not elapse before McClellan discovered

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Johnston's retreat. Second, that but for Whiting's naturally mistaking the "desultory fire" from the Federal fleet for that of our own artillerymen, he would probably have reached Williamsburg about the time he left the vicinity of Yorktown, and third, that the chances were McClellan would not have known of our retiring for several hours later than he did but for the explosion of the ordnance store-house, and therefore the battle of Williamsburg might have been avoided.

Those familiar with military operations and how battles are fought, need not be reminded of what influence small accidents or incidents have on results,--often determining the fate of armies, and sometimes of governments and dynasties.

I remember it was said at the time, if the courier from Beauregard to Bonham and Longstreet occupying the right of our line at the first battle of Manassas, with an order to move forward their brigades had not lost his way, McClellan's army beaten by our left and centre, retreating towards Washington in confusion and panic, might have been intercepted and captured.

The failure of Fitz John Porter to receive Pope's order in time, as was claimed, or his failure to obey it, as was charged by Pope, was advanced by Pope and his defenders, as the reason for Pope's loss of the battle of Manassas.

Many, many incidents might be cited to show what insignificant events effect great results. A case in point is of very recent occurrence, the shooting and attempted assassination of the Chinese Peace Envoy, Li Hung Chang by a Japanese crank or lunatic, is said to have mollified the intense war spirit of the Japanese, and not only hastened the treaty of peace, but abated the terms and conditions contemplated by the victorious Japanese.

Many of you doubtless recall the graphic description given by Victor Hugo of the battle of Waterloo in his marvellous book, "Les Miserables." He represents Napoleon as having impressed a Belgian peasant, Lacoste, as a guide,

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and kept him by his side strapped to his horse. At the crisis of this great historic battle on the result of which hung the fate of Europe, Napoleon is said to have asked the peasant guide a question, to which he nodded assent. Thereupon the Emperor ordered that celebrated but fatal charge of the cuirasseurs, the miscarriage of which turned the tide of battle against him. The inference was that Napoleon asked the unfriendly guide if the ground was suited for cavalry manuvres, and the guide answered in the affirmative, knowing the contrary to be true, intentionally leading Napoleon into a blunder at a vital crisis.

Of course allowances must be made for the embellishments of a novelist, but, I believe, the facts he states are substantially correct, and Victor Hugo draws the conclusion from them, that not only was the battle of Waterloo decided, but the map of Europe changed "by the nod of a peasant."

After the battle of Williamsburg, Johnston's retreat into the fortifications around Richmond, the investment of that city by McClellan, the battle of Seven Pines, the wounding of Johnston and assignment of Lee to the command of the army, the sanguinary seven days fighting at Mechanicsville, Fraser's Farm, Gaines Mill, Old Cold Harbor, Malvern Hill, and McClellan's discomfiture and retirement to his gun boats on the James River, are matters of history.

There was one manoeuvre in those series of brilliant movements about which I have felt anxious to procure correct information without success--whether Johnston, before he retired from the command of the army, or Lee after he assumed command, conceived the strategy, by which Jackson crossed the mountains from the valley and struck McClellan such a blow on his right flank at Mechanicsville, and doubled it back on his center. Either of these great Generals, both masters in the art of war, was capable of the brilliant conception, but I doubt if another living soldier could have executed it as did the immortal Jackson. My rank did not entitle me to the confidence of those entrusted

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with the conduct of military operations, but I remember the gossip in the army decided that Jackson was being greatly reinforced from Richmond to enable him to cross the Potomac and strike Washington in the rear. What must have been our surprise, then, and what the surprise of the Federals, when Jackson appeared suddenly and hurled his terrific thunderbolts against McClellan's right.

I do not recall any strategy of the war, or of any war, more brilliant in conception or more splendid and brilliant in execution.

McClellan has been charged with being slow of movement, over-cautious, wanting in boldness and audacity, but he was a great soldier, a profound student of the art of war, great in organization, discipline and perfection of his plans--active and initiative in their execution. It is no disparagement to the greatest soldiers on either side to say, in many respects, he was the equal of the greatest of them.

It behooved him to be cautious and wary in the presence of such military giants as confronted him, and he furnished the best evidence of his high soldierly qualities, by the manner in which he extricated himself from the clutches of Lee and Jackson in the seven days fighting, preserving the morale of his army under the terrible pounding of Lee's legions, always presenting a fierce, fighting line of battle, whenever the gauntlet was thrown down.

But, my comrades and friends, pardon me for this digression. I fear I have taxed your patience far beyond the proper limit of endurance. You will, I trust, charge the imposition, if it proves to be such, to my sincere desire to contribute something to your ceremonies, in response to the courteous invitation with which you have honored me.

These memorial occasions are sacred gatherings, inspired and controlled by the highest and purest sentiments of the heart.

The last time I was with you, I enjoyed the cordial grasp, and listened with infinite pleasure and instruction to the eloquent words, as they fell from the lips of that gallant,

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accomplished gentleman and patriot, Colonel Charles C. Jones, now no more. Well do I recall his earnest zeal in promoting the objects and purposes of your Association. With him it was a sacred cause, and you know better than I can tell you how much he contributed to building up and perpetuating your work. Let us tenderly and affectionately place a wreath of immortelles on his grave while we do honor to other comrades, and move on in the path of duty so conspicuously adorned. To follow his illustrious example will make us better men and women, better citizens, better friends.

Notes

1. As the pamphlet goes to press, we are advised that General Jordan is still in life.
Chapter 3

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LEE TO THE REAR. By John R. Thompson.

The following poem, by the lamented John R. Thompson, was suggested by one of the most exciting incidents of the late war, and it breathes a spirit of martial music that thrills the hearts of the surviving soldiers. At the battle of the Wilderness the Union troops made a sudden and terrific attack upon the centre of Gen. Lee's lines, and drove the Confederates back. Gen. Lee saw at a glance the critical situation; then rode forward and said: "Follow me!" But his devoted soldiers knew it meant certain death for their dearly beloved leader; so they implored him to go back; at the same instant two veterans grasped the bridle of "Traveller" (Gen. Lee's favorite white war horse), and led him away from the heavy fire of shot and shell. Reluctantly he yielded to them; but at the word "Forward!" the old

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Rebel yell made the welkin ring; and after a bloody conflict, the Confederates won the day:"

Dawn of a pleasant morning in May
Broke through the Wilderness, cool and gray,
While perched in the tallest tree-tops the birds
Were carolling Mendelssohn's "Songs without words."

Far from the haunts of men remote,
The brook brawled on with a liquid note;
And nature, all tranquil and lovely, wore
The smile of the spring, as in Eden of yore.

Little by little, as daylight increased,
And deepened the roseate flush in the East;
Little by ltttle did morn reveal
Two long, glittering lines of steel.

Where two hundred thousand bayonets gleam,
Tipped with the light of the earliest beam,
And the faces are sullen and grim to see,
In the hostile armies of Grant and Lee.

All of a sudden, ere rose the sun,
Pealed on the silence the opening gun--
A little white puff of smoke there came,
And anon the valley was wreathed in flame.

Down on the left of the Rebel lines,
Where a breastwork stands in a copse of pines,
Before the Rebels their ranks can form,
The Yankees have carried the place by storm.

Stars and Stripes o'er the salient wave,
Where many a hero has found his grave;
And the gallant Confederates strive in vain
The ground they have drenched with their blood to regain!

Yet louder the thunder of battle roared,
Yet a deadlier fire on their columns poured--
Slaughter infernal rode with despair,
Furies twain, through the smoky air.

Not far off, in the saddle there sat
A gray-bearded man, with a black slouch hat;
Not much moved by the fire was he,
Calm and resolute, Robert Lee.

Quick and watchful, he kept his eye
On two bold Rebel brigades close by--
Reserves, that were standing (and dying) at ease,
Where the tempest of wrath toppled over the trees.

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For still with their loud deep bull-dog bay,
The Yankee batteries blazed away,
And with every murderous second that sped,
A dozen brave fellows, alas! fell dead.

The grand old gray-beard rode to the space
Where Death and his victims stood face to face,
And silently waved his old slouch hat--
A world of meaning there was in that!

"Follow me! Steady! We'll save the day!"
This is what he seemed to say;
And to the light of his glorious eye
The bold brigade thus made reply.

"We'll go forward, but you must go back!"
And they moved not an inch in the perilous track.
"Go to the back and we'll send them to h--l;"
Then the sound of the battle was lost in their yell.

Turning his bridle, Robert Lee
Rode to the rear. Like the waves of the sea,
Bursting the dykes in their overflow,
Madly his veterans dashed on the foe.

And backwards in terror that foe was driven,
Their banners rent and their columns riven,
Wherever the tide of battle rolled,
Over the Wilderness, wood and wold.

Sunset out of a crimson sky
Streamed o'er a field of a ruddier dye,
And the brook ran on with a purple stain,
From the blood of ten thousand foeman slain.

Seasons have passed since that day and year;
Again oe'r its pebbles the brook runs clear,
And the field in a richer green is drest,
Where the dead of a terrible conflict rest.

Hushed is the roll of the Rebel drum,
The sabres sheath'd and the cannon are dumb;
And Fate, with pitiless hand has furled
The flag that once challenged the gaze of the world.

But the fame of the Wilderness fight abides,
And down into history grandly rides:
Calm and unmoved as in battle he sat,
The grey-bearded man in the black slouch hat.

"
officers of the confederate survivors' association 1

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OFFICERS
OF THE
Confederate Survivors' Association.

President,
CAPT. F. EDGEWORTH EVE.

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First Vice-President,
GEN. MARCELLUS A. STOVALL.

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Second Vice-President,
HON. JAMES C. C. BLACK.

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Third Vice-President,
CAPT. JAMES L. FLEMING.

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Chaplain,
REV. LANSING BURROWS, D. D.

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Historian,
CHARLES EDGEWORTH JONES.

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Treasurer,
CAPT. CHARLES E. COFFIN.

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Recording Secretary,
CAPT. N. K. BUTLER.

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Corresponding Secretary,
CAPT. M. P. CARROLL.

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Adjutant,
LIEUT. GEORGE W. McLAUGHLIN,

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Sergeant-Major,
JORDAN BOTTOM, Esq.

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Sentinel,
ALBERT B. SAXON, Esq.