THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR: the East and First Manassas

Rich Mountain

A putative majority of eligible voters (and no one will ever likely know to a certainty what coersion was practiced by partisans on either side) in the Kanawha valley and the other western counties of Virginia held a "self-sponsored plebicite" and seceded from the rest of the Commonwealth of Virginia effective June 20, 1861. They applied for admission to the Union as a new state, (they had organized the State of Kanawha with a capital at Wheeling) which was approved by the Congress on June 20, 1863. (Lincoln had signed the enabling legislation in December, 1862--it is likely the admission was delayed until the anniversary of West Virginia's secession from Virginia.)

They could not have done so, however, until the forces of the Commonwealth and of the Confederacy had been eliminated as a potential threat to existence of such a "state." Two sons of the Old Dominion were to command in West Virginia. Lieutnant Colonel John Pegram[/b], USMA 1854, went to Beverly, the seat of Randolph County, taking command of two small forces there, and eventually commanding two "brigades" of approximately 1300 riflemen in total (a later standard of the Confederacy in the war would have made this force about the size of two regiments, or a "demi-brigade."), by the time of the battle of Rich mountain. He was soon followed and succeeded in command by Brigadier General Robert Seldon Garnett[/b] (i found no satisfactory biography on-line, this is the best available), another Virginian who had attended the United States Military Academy (with his cousin, Robert Brooke Garnett, who was to die in 1865), and who had briefly been R. E. Lee's adjutant when Lee commanded Virginia forces in the Commonwealth. After the debacle at Phillipi, Benjamin Kelley had seized Grafton on the orders of Morris (see the description of Phillipi in the previous thread), another key junction for the protection of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, a line crucial to Washington, D.C. Garnett took command of the 800 men still under the command of Porterfield, and took steps to deal with Morris' command. At about this time, Confederate authorities became aware that another substantial force was organizing in the Department of the Ohio under the command of Major General George Brinton McClellan. On April 23, McClellan was made Major General of United States Volunteers (Ohio)--although he then remained a Captain of the Regular Army of the United States--and commander of the Ohio Militia. Within three weeks, he was promoted Major General (Regular Army of the United States), making him second in rank to only Winfield Scott, and was given command of the Department of Ohio. (Many have suggested, as is implied in the above linked article, that McClellan, who had become a Vice President and Chief Engineer of the Illinois Central Railroad after returning from his assignment as an observer at Sevastapol in the Crimean War, was promoted by Lincoln, who had represented the Illinois Central in a famous civil case which he won. The article is, to my knowledge, incorrect in stating that Lincoln was an attorney of that railroad.) McClellan moved decisively (but typically slowly), and, although newly wed (May 22, in New York, to Miss Ellen Marcy), was across the river and in the state with a well-supported force of about 5,000 men. His second in command was Brigadier General William Starke Rosecrans, given command of a mobile force of approximately 2000 men.

Garnett's position was poor. He was obliged to station the "brigade" formerly commanded by Porterfield at Laurel Hill north of Beverly to screen Morris at Grafton. When he had reinforcements available, he sent them to cover the Staunton road, by posting them astride the Parkersburg turnpike behind Rich Mountain, which joined the road to Staunton at Beverly (and therefore covered Garnett's communications). Garnett had no intention of sitting still, and proposed to Lee that when sufficient forces had arrived he would move to cut-off Grafton, retake that important railroad junction, and cut the Baltimore and Ohio. Garnett sent Colonel John Heck with a regiment of ten companies, a cavalry troop and a battery of four guns to cover the crossing of Rich Mountain of the Parkersburg turnpike. There Heck established Camp Garnett on June 16, and did yoeman work to put up field fortifications, put out abbatis and fell trees to clear a field of fire--and like Porterfield at Phillipi, he seems not to have given sufficient attention to stationing pickets or sending out cavalry vedettes. Garnett is to be commended for acting promptly, this was within two weeks of "the Phillipi Races." He subsequently sent Pegram with the 20th Virginia to support Heck, and to take command, as his Confederate commission superceded Heck's militia commission. Pegram took command, and with Georgia troops, disposed of about 1300 men.

But Garnett had yet a further problem. He was basically operating in hostile territory, and relied considerably more on his communications than most Confederate commanders were obliged to do in this war. He complained to Lee that the people were "against us," adding that all of their movements were promptly reported to Grafton--where McClellan had gone to consult with Morris on June 23. The residents of the western counties were not only loathe to support Garnett, but were becoming somewhat concerned by the build-up of Confederate forces, and were demanding (or pleading for, as one wishes to characterize it) protection. McClellan did move soon after his forces were assembled, and was west-north-west of Rich Mountain on the Virginia side by June 27. On July 6, learning of McClellan's arrival, Garnett sent word to Pegram. McClellan had already determined that Rich Mountain was the key to Garnett's position, and abandoned ill-formed and vague plans to move into the Kanawha valley (many contend, only after being prompted by Lincoln and the Cabinet). He also apparently gave credence to reports of 8- or 9000 Confederates at Camp Garnett, just as he would listen horrified to Alan Pinkerton's reports of 200,000 Confederates in Richmond almost a year later, when he didn't want to attack that city.

But McClellan now seemed to pause, when what history now judges to be his customary over-cautious nature asserted itself, and Rosecrans at least, believed that he was content to screen Pegram and help Morris to defend the line of the Baltimore and Ohio. Rosecrans was an odd duck, much given both to insomnia and the sound of his own voice. He frequently got his way by simply wearing his commanders down, and his subordinates frequently stumbled from all-night staff meetings to attempt to execute his orders, if they could remember them (George Thomas seems to be the only subordinate General who was proof against this bizarre ritual, and never failed to execute his orders to the letter--but that will be later). Finally, almost two weeks after McClellan had crossed the Ohio, Rosecrans moved his brigade to a position opposite Rich Mountain and Camp Garnett. Rosecrans, however, had no intention of simply screening the position. Leaving one day to his engineer to find an approach march, on July 9, he moved on July 10, and on July 11, 1861, took Heck's position at Rich Mountain in reverse, attacking the rear guard position at the Hart farm. Pegram's officers put up a stiff resistance, but his men broke when their cartridge boxes were empty, and flooded back toward the remaing few hundred men on the Beverly road, a force insufficient to halt Rosecrans' well-equipped and supported brigade, who had been greeted as deliverers in almost every hamlet and farmstead. At Camp Garnett itself, Pregram's men had repulsed probing columns sent out by McClellan, and believed they had driven back the main attack. McClellan otherwise remained inactive throughout the 9th, 10th, and 11th of July, only moving when a cavalryman rode into his lines to report the Confederate withdrawal. Neither McClellan nor Rosecrans trusted their troops, and Rosecrans' officers had not well coordinated their attacks--most of the men were three-month Ohio militiamen, rather than United States Volunteers, and militiamen have been justifiably considered unreliable by regular officers in our history. Incredibly, when the militiamen had, with a shout, stormed the Confederate works at the Hart Farm below Rich Mountain, and driven portions of Heck's regiment reeling, Rosecrans called off any pursuit to prepare for a counterattack. Throughout the night, Confederates retreating from Camp Garnett raised alarms (Rosecrans had posted pickets), but it was only at dawn that he learned of the withdrawal. McClellan became convinced that he would be attacked, and withdrew at dusk on the 11th! Pegram had withdrawn after riding to the Hart farm just as the Federals broke the Confederate line there. He propsed a night attack, but when Confederates fired into their own column during the approach march, the attack was called off--Pegram had fallen from his horse in the darkness and was slightly injured, and had now not slept in more than 24 hours He turned over command to Colonel Heck, who spiked the guns and moved out. Finally, on the 12th, with only a few companies left in control, he sent to McClellan for terms, and surrendered his command--which he described as in a condition "reduced and almost famished." A Captain Lilley of the 25th Virginia had pulled together several companies from the forces routed at the Hart farm, and eventually established a defensive position on Cheat Mountain, sufficient to convince the cautious McClellan to be content with occupying Beverly.

Garnett received word of Rosecrans' success, and began to fall back on Beverly from Laurel Hill. Receiving a false report that Beverly had already fallen (probably Captain Lilley's ragtag band had been mistaken for Federals), an organized retreat was now conducted by first marching north of Beverly and then attempting to turn and cross Cheat Mountain. Recent rains (the rain was the continually ememy of the Confederates' ill-fated efforts in western Virginia) had swollen Cheat River, and on July 13, at Corrick's Ford, his wagons became bogged. His Virginians and Georgians rushed to pull the wagons out, and a small detachment of Indiana troops came up and opened a brisk, but largely futile fire on the column. Garnett had already sent his guns through the ford and posted them on heights above the river, and they disposed of Captain Benham's Hoosiers rather quickly.

But not before Garnett was fatally wounded. The remainder of his command crossed into Maryland, and eventually slipped between Morris at Grafton and General Patterson (then not operating against Johnston at Harper's Ferry as he had been ordered to do--and not operating in considerably complex style) and eventually reached Monterey, Virginia. Pegram was later exchanged, as were most of his troops, who, as was the case with McClellan's forces, were largely militia. McClellan then issued a congratulatory (and largely self-congratulatory) bulletin to "the Army of the West," which was reprinted verbatim in the Northern Press, hungry for good news and glory to cover Federal arms. (In this regard--issuing largely fictional bulletins--McClellan was very much like Napoleon indeed; otherwise, i personally consider the comparison ludicrous, although it was common then, and has been repeated since.)

Federal casualties were 46 for the entire three days. Confederate casualties are estimated at about 300. One might wonder why such a small action is given so much attention. This was the most "economical" victory of its kind in the war. With this campaign and battle in miniature, McClellan removed the threat to Ohio, largely cut Kentucky off from Virginia, assured the safety of the Virginia Union men and secured the Baltimore and Ohio railroad--for a time. Garnett was the first General officer killed in the war. His cousin, Richard Brooke Garnett, with whom he had attended the USMA, was to die in 1865--and i believe the Garnetts are the only family in that war to have lost two General officers. Garnett had been highly regarded in the South, and justifiably so. Had he known of McClellan's trepidation in attacking him, he might have done better. When he finally did retreat from Beverly, he simply left the tents at Laurel Hill in place, and left invalid soldiers to keep the camp fires burning. Morris did not move out of Grafton until, to his complete surprise, Federal troops marched up the road from Beverly. But i'm not much for historical what-ifs, so we should leave it where the facts do. On July 22d, McClellan went to Washington City, and was thereafter given command of all the Federal armies in the field, McDowell having been defeated at First Manassas on July 21st. "Old Rosy" Rosecrans took command of the forces in West Virginia, and would remain in command positions for two years longer, to the unutterable misery of his staff and his subordinate commanders. Usually given scant notice, Rich Mountain had a crucial effect on the war, and gave the Federal armies an important base from which to threaten Virginia--and that is why i have devoted this amount of attention to the affair.

You leave me speechless, Set. And, I admit, somewhat confused. Do I understand correctly that at the begining of the War, it was the Southern force that was known as the Army of the Potomac and the Northern army which was called the Army of Northern Virinia? And that this was all reversed after R.E. Lee tok command of the Southern forces? The mind reels.

Yes, Boss. But Irwin McDowell's Army of Northern Virginia was reorganzied by Little Mac, and Johnston's Army of the Potomac was renamed by Lee.

A general notice: About two hours in to writing the next article in this series yesterday, the power supply on my computer died, and i lost all of my work. It may be a while before i can return to this thread. My apologies to the readers.

Beauregard had organized the "Army of the Potomac," which was an overly ambitious name. The first Northern regiments to arrive at Washington had crossed the Long Bridge (a railroad and foot bridge approximately where the 14th Street bridge to Arlington is found today), and secured the Arlington estate of Lee's wife, and had taken Alexandria; gunboats and U.S.N. frigates and sloops of war patrolled the Potomac and Aquia Creek. Beauregard was in no position to defend the line of the Potomac. Joseph Eggleston Johnston eventually took command of that army. Irwin McDowell gave his army the more modest and realistic name of The Army of Northern Virginia. As they already controlled that area, that was preeminently reasonable.

After First Manassas, July 21st, 1861, the army was still in a mostly mob form when McClellan arrived at Washington City. He was eventually to land in the Virginia penninsula, and drive "Prince John" Magruder back to Williamsburg, where Jubal Early fought a sharp actions to delay the advance of the Federals. McClellan went into lines to the east of Richmond, and then chewed his nails and listened to Alan Pinkerton's outrageous reports of 200,000 Confederates in Richmmond. McClellan was therefore disinclined to risk his 130,000 man army. Johnston had been forced to abandon northern Virginia because of McClellans movements, and Irwin McDowell had advanced to Stafford Court House, across the river from Fredericksburg. Initially, Richard Stoddard Ewell faced him accross the river, before being sent to join Jackson in the Valley. Johnston finally, reluctantly, gave in to the demands of Jefferson Davis, and attacked the Federals. He was wounded on the Nine Mile Road during the battle, and Lee took command. His first general order to the army was issued as from "Headquarters, Army of Nortern Virginia." As a propaganda ploy, it was very savvy. Lee by that time had lost his reputation, and was generally named "Granny Lee." But a gentleman in Richmond repeating thisin the presence of Harry Heth (i believe he was the man) was told: "Why, his very name might be audacity." The use of that name for an army very far indeed from northern Virginia spoke volumes about Lee's attitudes.

After the Seven Days, McClellan huddled on the James at Harrison's Landing, and a new army was being formed in northern Virginia under the command of John Pope, who had been successful in the west at helping to clear the navigation of the Mississippi, most notably at Island Number 10. He arrived with an attitude, and alienated many people, once commenting that he came "from the West, where we are accustomed to seeing the backs of our enemies." He also sent out ridiculous dispatches from "Headquarters in the Saddle," leading army wits to comment that he had his headquarters where his hindquarters ought to be. But the Army of Virginia was still forming when Jackson's "foot cavalry" performed their most heroic march, making more than 70 miles in two days, and, from Pope's perspective, appearing in his rear from out of nowhere. The ensuing debacle of Second Manassas ended Pope's career in the East, and when McClellan was tapped to reorganize the army, he gave it the more modest name of The Army of the Potomac.

I've always seen that quote -- "Too bad Gen. McClellan's headquarters are where his hindquarters ought to be" -- attributed to Lincoln. Is that a misattribution?

Never heard that, Boss, and only the attribution to John Pope . . .

Bookmarking.

Gee it's been a long time since I've said that anywhere.

My apologies to any who are still reading my posts on this topic, but the brush with death of my home computer has hampered my efforts, the more so as i was more than two hours into the biographical sketch which will follow at the time it seemed to have died. I will make a good effort to continue this series, however.

A Biographical Sketch

John Jackson was born sometime after 1715 near Coleraine in Ireland. Moving with his father and older brothers to London at about age ten, he attempted to make a living as a builder, but failed. In 1748, he stood in the Old Bailey to hear his sentence for larceny--death by hanging, commuted to transportation. He was sent to the prison hulks, old warships which were no longer servicable, and which were moored in the Thames to serve as inpromptu jails.

Elizabeth Cummins (also known as "Elizabeth Needles") was also Irish, although it is not known if she was born in Ireland or in England. In 1749, she too stood convicted in the Old Bailey of larcency, and she was also given a cummuted sentence of transportation. More than 40,000 convicts were transported to America before the revolution, and John Jackson and Elizabeth Cummins were shipped abord Litchfield for the crossing to Annapolis, Maryland. Professor Ekirch, writing in 1990, estimated the convict and indentured population of Maryland at a minimum of 9,400 persons, and possibly more than 12,000--making the group more than one third of the colony's population. Family legend had it that the two met and fell immediately in love. They showed an unbending resolve which was to characterize their descendants, and married upon receipt of their tickets of leave. They moved, as so many others of humble origin were doing, to the Valley of Virginia. When white colonists had first come, there had been two or three Shawnee villages (one or more of them simply summer farming and hunting camps), but the land was largely unoccupied. By the time John and Elizabeth Jackson arrived, the Valley was already filling up--Washington had resigned his command of the Virginia militia, but not before he had established a string of forts in the mountains of Virginia and the Carolinas which proved reasonably effective at protecting the settlers. John and Elizabeth moved over the mountains to the Kanawah valley, even though settlement west of the Allegheny was prohibited. John and two of his sons were active during the Revolution, and Elizabeth successfully defended the homestead from Indian raiders, providing shelter for other families. In his old age, John moved to the village of Clarksburg, and there died in the arms of his beloved Elizabeth at the putative age of eighty-six years.

His patrimony was considerable, and local legendary gossip had it that he and his sons were ruthlessly ambitious. One of sons, Edward, had married well in 1783, and after the death of his first wife in 1796, took another wife three years later--in total, he sired fifteen children, all of whom lived to what was then middle age. He had an eye on the barely settled areas south of Clarksburg, and quite an accumulated fortune from his own efforts and from twice having married daughters of wealthy families. He purchased and claimed land in the valley of the West Fork river, laid out a section in plats for a town which would become Weston, and set up his personal estate to the west, on the shoulders of the mountain, and built a mill at the confluence of the West Fork and Freeman's creek, on the east bank of the river, opposite his "estate." Jackson's Mill would become more well-known than the town of Weston.

Edward's third child was a son, Jonathon. Although Jonathon came from what was now a prominent and wealthy family, and his prospects ought to have been good, he never did very well. His family was obliged to bail him out of financial and legal trouble on more than one occassion--he was not a type of his grandparents, the hardy former convicts who had built a powerful dynasty in the wilderness of western Virginia in two generations. His family connection was sufficient, however, for him to have married the daughter of another prominent family, Julia Beckwith Neale. Her Irish immigrant parents had moved even further west, to Parkersburg, and quickly amassed a considerable wealth trading down the Ohio river. Jonathon's downfall was his charming and generous nature. Although an attorney, he doesn't seemed to have shown much sense. It was common for borrowers to seek an attorney to sign for them, and he co-signed notes for dozens of friendly and plausible young companions who proved to be less than careful about their debts. Securing an appointment as a Federal revenue collector, with the aid of his prominent relative in Washington City, Judge John G. Jackson of Clarksburg, Jonathon received lengthy and stern sermonizing from the good Judge on his habits and associates, and minatory descriptions of the resposibilities of his office. Edward Jackson's prolific record as a father, and the good health enjoyed by all of his offspring had dispersed his wealth considerably. When Jonathon was finally brought to the bar, with unpaid reciepts in excess of $3,500, it was necessary for the entire clan to chip in, as Edward had a good living at Jackson's Mill, but little ready cash.

Surprisingly, it was in the year after his disgrace that he married Miss Neale. Contemporaries described him as a good legal scholar, suited to "chancery" cases, but with few powers of eloquence to make him desirable as an advocate. He struggled on, and a daughter, Elizabeth, was born to the couple in 1819. On the evening of January 20, 1824, Dr. McCally of Clarksburg went to the Jackson home, where he delivered a boy--he said before midnight, but the boy's mother insisted the child was born after midnight, and so January 21, 1824 is given as his date of birth. He was named for his grandfather, Thomas Neale. There is no record that his father's name was given him as a middle name, but more on that a little later.

I read a biography of Jackson although I don't remember the author. Definitely an icon of the Confederacy. His self-discipline and monastic life style was legendary.

On another note, I started an overview of the cavalry in the Civil War. I hope I can post it soon.

Set, this is fascinating. Filling in those old, boring history lessons.

Have you ever followed up on the connections made after the war? What I mean is that many of the officers on both sides of the war had gone to school at West Point and were fairly good friends.

There were numerous financial opportunities after the war and I'm sure some of these men got together and took advantage, building huge fortunes based on inside knowledge.

Anyway, off topic.

I look forward to reading more of your report.

(Sketch continued . . . )

This son Thomas was his parent's third child--a son named Warren had been born three years earlier, in January. A little over two years later, in March 1826, the oldest child, Elizabeth was laid low by typhoid fever. Her mother was well advanced in her fourth pregnancy, and could not care for the child, so Jonathon sat day and night at his daughter's bedside. On March 26, both father and daughter died of typhoid fever, and on the following day, Julia gave birth to Laura Jackson. She was now 28 years of age, widowed, largely ignored by a family which had come to think better of her marriage, with two infants and a newly born daughter. Always welcome at her parent's Parkersburg home, she seems never to have asked for financial assistance, and to have been given little more than small gifts which helped to scrape along, adding the occassional embarrassed cash gift from the Jackson in-laws. Another attorney in the area, Blake Woodson, began to court her at some point in the late 1820's, and married her in November, 1830. He was less of a scholar than Jonathon Jackson had been, having no talent for civil suits, and as little or less oratory power, which excluded him as well from making a good living as an advocate. He is reported to have become abusive of his wife and step-children, blaming them for his failures. He is said to have encouraged the children to "seek homes elsewhere." Julia's family had already noted that she showed signs of "consumption," and it is likely that she had contracted tuberculosis (common in the age of the horse, as horses and stables are vectors for the disease). In 1831, the Commonwealth Assembly created the new county of Fayette, and Woodson moved his family there, thinking to make a living as the first, or one of the first attorneys there. The family was more isolated than ever before, and Woodson's charm and smooth talking, only skin-deep and not a natural trait as it had been for Jonathon Jackson, failed to secure more than a bare livelihood. Warren Jackson, at age 10, went to Parkersburg to live with his maternal uncle Alfred Neale. Julia wanted to keep the younger children, but Woodson had become more abusive, and she was dying of her consumption. A relative, probably Cummins Jackson, came from Jackson's Mill to get the children. Thomas ran off into the woods, and only came home well after sundown, driven in by his hunger. The next day was a horrible scene of emotional turmoil as he finally agreed to mount a horse brought for the purpose, and his mother ran after him to embrace him repeatedly. Laura's reaction to the event is not recorded, to my knowledge. Julia's influence on her son was considerable, and despite his subsequent military reputation, he was a quiet and kindly man (where duty did not require otherwise) with the soft brown hair of his mother, and lively blue eyes of his father, and an unfailing love for and understanding with any child he met.

For whatever emotional scars were caused by the parting, and the death in 1831 of their mother, the two children were well loved and cared for at Jackson's Mill, by their step-grandmother and two of her daughters. As the daughters had families of their own, the children received much love and care, but little schooling. They were nominally in the care of the Uncle, Cummins Jackson. Their grandfather Neale levied horrible charges against him, saying his daughter had spoken of him in only "contempteble [sic] terms" and that he sought to make "dredges [i.e., drudges] of them." But his efforts failed, and Thomas Jackson was to spend eleven years at Jackson's Mill, and they seem to have been relatively care-free. Having begun to learn their letters from their mother, Thomas and Laura were given an on-again, off-again education at the Mill. Cummins Jackson seems to have been as careless of his good credit as his brother had been, and by the time Thomas was half way through his career at the United States Military Academy, Cummins Jackson had decided the climate of Arkansas would be more salubrious than that of Lewis County, Virginia. He had discovered a thin vein of silver near the mill, and was accused of counterfeiting half-dollars by stamping them on lead slugs, which were then coated with silver. Of Laura Jackson, little remains that is reliable, as she bacame a staunch West Virginia Unionist, and the most scurrilous stories were circulated about her, usually with accusations of wanton sexual practice included. She married, and for whatever the rest of Virginia said of her (doubtlessly exacerbated by the fame of her brother in the opposing cause), she was well-respected in her community.



Thomas Jackson had realized in adolescence that he suffered from a lack of formal education. He applied himself with vigor to the task of the autodidact, and advanced to such a point that he was tutoring other children in their homes in the winter time. This was a common practice of families who could afford the fee to the county, with winter being a time when little labor was expected of the child, and older, literate children were available for the task. At the age of 17, Thomas Jackson signed a voucher for payment of $5.64 in fees to him for such classes with the name "Thomas J. Jackson." There is no evidence that he had ever used the name before, or had ever before been so named. Given the large number of Jacksons in the county, it is likely that the initial was used to distinguish him from other Thomas Jacksons. At the USMA, he used the name to distinguish himself from Thomas K. Jackson of South Carolina, who matriculated in the same class. Therefore, he ever after signed his name thus on military documents, and never signed his name thus on private correspondence. Many biographers have leapt to the conclusion the his full, formal name was Thomas Jonathon Jackson, but there is absolutely no evidence to support the contention.

In 1841, the newly minted Congressman Samuel Hays had enthusiastically endorsed the idea that Jackson be appointed to the United States Military Academy. Hays, from Weston, knew the Jackson clan well, understood their considerable influence, and personally knew and liked Thomas Jackson. But Gibson Butcher of Weston had a "formal" education, and had worked as an attorney's clerk, and scored considerably higher on the examinations than Jackson. Jackson had been sweated pretty well by two attorneys and a clergyman for the examinations, but the many years of no formal education told. However, arriving at West Point on the Hudson river on June 3, 1842, Gibson Butcher departed without ceremony, and without bothering to inform anyone on June 4. His absence was eventually noted, and Congressman Hays was invited to submit another name, preferrably that of someone who had taken and passed the examination. Congressman Hays was now free to follow his personal inclination, and two weeks later, Thomas Jackson arrived in New York. Legends about him walking (some even claiming he did so with bare feet!) the more than 250 miles ought to be given the consideration they merit. Jackon started at the bottom of his class, and seems at first to have despaired of making any progress. He applied himself, however, with the energy and ambition that residents of western Virginia had long attributed to his clan, and by his graduation, had hauled himself to about the middle of his class. He had a brief and inexplicable period of a lapse of attention to duty in his third year, but otherwise was well known as a particular adherent to the letter of military duty and its punctilious observation. He had excelled at drill with the field artillery, despite dismal performance in mathmatics, and was delighted to be accepted into that branch of the service. Little ceremony was wasted on the class of 1846, and he was soon shipped to Mexico, an officer of Company K, First United States Artillery. When Winfield Scott finally escaped the machinations of President Polk, and began assembling his army for the invasion by sea of Mexico, Jackon's section of artillery was among the professional forces transferred from Zachary Taylor's command to that of Scott. The Navy landed Scott's small, and very professional, army at Vera Cruz on March 9, 1847. Scott's chief engineer, Robert Lee, helped his brother Smith Lee (an officer of the United States Navy) to set up ship's guns for the bombardmentn of Vera Cruz, and Jackson's company took their assigned stations as the brothers laid out the seige batteries. Jackson received favorable notice for his behavior under fire, walking from gun to gun to supervise the gun laying (aiming) before each salvo. An observer noted that: "Old Jack . . . was as calm in the midst of a hurricane of bullets as though he were on dress parade at West Point." He felt that he would receive promotion, but he was ever attentive to the detail of military protocol and duty. Writing to Laura, he stated that he himself should receive no praise, as that was owing the officers in command, and admonished that his correspondence ought never be shown to newspaper editors. At the same time, he began a relentless correspondence with the Quartermaster General to be reimbursed for his expenditures from his private monies when acting as Quartermaster for his company on the voyage from New York to Mexico, which he eventually received--duty flows in both directions in the chain of command.

It is not to the point here to recall the details of Scott's campaign from Vera Cruz to the city of Mexico. It was followed with a good deal of interest, and unstinting praise by military men in Europe as well as the United States. In May, Jackson had received his promotion to First Lieutenant, but only a brevet (active in wartime, but not in effect in peacetime), and was transferred from Company K (light artillery) to Company G (heavy artillery). He was left behind with this unit at Jalapa, to his mortification. In June, however, the battery was ordered to join Scott's army again. They were attacked by guerillas en route, but they were easily driven off, and Jackson wrote to Laura of the souvenirs he had acquired, including "a beautiful sabre." Scott now moved with a reduced force of just over 10,000 men directly on the city of Mexico. In August, Captain Lee exhausted himself to find a path through the ancient lava fields of the Pedregal, and lead units through the nightmarish terraine, while supervising the efforts of Gideon Pillow's troops to hack a road through the rock. Scott had formed batteries of "flying artillery" (light guns, usually six pound smooth bore cannon and twelve pound howitzers) to accompany the brigades of the army, and one of them was given to "Prince John" Magruder, of Virginia. Magruder needed a second in command, but no volunteers were forthcoming, as it was generally understood that Magruder was a severe disciplinarian whose desire for advancement took no account of the safety of his men. After sixteen years in the Army, he was still a captain and a battery commander, despite his reputation for fearless gallantry in action. Jackson, however, saw an opportunity, and probably could not understand anyone's objection to degrees of discipline, as his own conception was that one obeyed, and one did not question.

At Contreras, Magruder advanced his guns to rake the enemy who had bombarded the troops whom Lee was supervising in cutting a road through the lava beds. Jackson had been posted at a "corner," and stood to his orders even as enemy shot and shell were cutting down his men. Lt. Johnstone advanced his guns to the support of some howitzers, and the shelling moved away from Jackson's section, which may well have saved his life--he certainly would never have abandoned his position short of death. Johnstone was cut down, however, and Magruder began anxiously to look for Jackson, fearing he had been injured, or had failed to advance. He did not immediately find him, because Jackson had advanced beyond the howitzers, and to the right, in order to pour a converging fire into the Mexicans. Magruder's original assessment of Jackons was unflattering: he was an FFV (first families of Virginia) from the Tidewater, and Jackson was a mountainman with "no family." He commented that all that Jackson had to recommend him was "a stupid bravery." But Contreras altered his view considerably. Magruder, never know for praising subordinates when his own career might benefit, nevertheless wrote: " . . . conspicuous throught the whole day . . . I cannot too highly commend him to the Major Genl's. (Scott's) favorable consideration. " Magruder, and Callendar commanding the howitzers, had dueled for hours with more than twenty Mexican guns, all of an equal or much larger caliber. The action had allowed Pillow's and Twigg's troops to pass the enemy position at San Antonio ranch, however, and General Twigg also mentioned Jackson's "coolness and determination." On the following day, Scott's forces were thereby enabled to attack the Mexicans in front and rear--they held out a scant twenty minutes. Thomas Jackson had "arrived" in his military career.



(An 1851 portrait, taken shortly before his retirement from the United States Army.)

Please do so, and i would be grateful if you would include it in the "series," by using a thread title of "THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR: An overview of the cavalry"--or something to that effect, you will know best how you wish to proceed.

(Sketch . . . continued)

Jackson's old unit, Company K, had four Lieutenants, of which he remained one, although detched. He was rather rankled by the praise received by one of them, William French, from his commander, Captain Taylor. To Jackson's mind, their brush with Mexican cavalry in the swamps of Lake Xochimilco was insignificant in comparison to the deadly, one-sided duel Magruder and Callender had sustained for more than three hours with superior forces of Mexican artillery. This would become significant in the the years after the war.

Magruder's and Callendar's companies had captured so much Mexican artillery on the second day of the batttle of Contreras after the Mexicans decamped, that they spent the next few days sorting out the equipment and learning to operate the Mexican guns. They took no part in the battles of Churobusco, although they were available. Having moved completely around the city, Scott now prepared for a final drive to take the place. The furthest western point of the Mexican defense was at Molino del Ray ("Kingsmill"), and Scott in his impatience threw a brigade at well entrenched defenders, who were driven off, but not before inflicting casualties mounting to a quarter of the attacking force. Jackon's correspondence shows that he was very impressed with the wisdom of flanking movements such as that which succeeded at Contreras; the letters also show that he immediately developed an abhorence of frontal assaults on dug-in troops in watching the Molino del Ray affair. Magruder's guns were silent except for a few minutes use to drive off a Mexican cavalry counterattack. They were then assigned to Colonel Trousdale's "brigade," for the assault on the Mexican military academy, with Trousdale ordered to prevent reinfocements from arriving to the relief of the garrison. To the west of the city is a hill known as Chapultepec ("Grasshopper Hill"), which had been a source of fresh water for the city in the time of Cortez, and was now the site of the Mexican Military College, and the key to the defense of the city on the southwest, the only portion which was then open to large formations of infantry. In faithful adherence to a military practice then common in Europe as well as North America, a "forelorn hope" was formed by taking men and a few officers from every company of the frontline brigades, and adding a few dozen Marines and a Marine officer (hence, "the Halls of Montezuma"). This tradition of forming an assaulting force invariably produced high casualty rates, as most of the men did not know their officers, and had never fought together. The castle was truly a castle, and was a quarter mile in width, and three quarters of a mile in length. General Bravo had 850 men, including 50 cadets--the latter of whom became famous icons in Mexican history as los ninos perdidos. On September 12, the Americans bombarded the castle for fourteen hours, and the troops for the assault were moved up and put in position, and scaling ladders were constructed and distributed. On the 13th, in the hour of the dawn, the forelorn hope went forward, and was almost immediately held up by a redoubt built out of sight beneath the castle and behind the outer walls, which had not been manned (the walls not manned, that is--General Bravo had too few troops, and Santa Anna was unable to advance reinforcements due to the heavy American artillery fire). Colonel Trousdale advanced his two small regiments to prevent reinforcement and to support the forelorn hope, and was immediately felled by a musket ball--the crossfire from the Mexicans was deadly accurate. General Pillow called on Jackson to act indepedently, and Jackson was forever after grateful for the opportunity. He advanced his section of two small six-pounder guns, and began slamming round shot into the Mexican gun emplacements. The forelorn hope took terrible casualties, but other gunners followed Jackson's lead, the redoubt was abandoned, and the Americans surged forward to place their scaling ladders. The fight was fierce, bloody and in the end brief. Jackson described his action as follows:

"I was ordered to advance with a section of my battery upon a road swept by the fire of six or eight pieces of Mexican artillery at very short range. It was ticklish work, but there was nothing to be done but to obey orders. So I went on. As soon as we debouched into the main road, the Mexicans opened fire, and at the first discharge, killed or disabled every one of the twelve horses of my two guns. We unlimbered, however, and returned their fire."

One of the gun carriages was soon so damaged as to disable the gun for the time being. Jackson's gunners dived for cover, and impatiently, Jackson paced back and forth, saying to them in so many words: "There is no danger." They were unconvinced, and later in life Jackson stated that this was the only lie he ever knowlingly told. A solid shot then bounced between Jackson's legs, leaving him unharmed, and one old veteran sergeant--deciding Jackson lead a charmed existence--came out from cover to help him manhandle the other gun over a ditch to a firing position. A few other gunners joined them, and Jackson sent one back to Colonel Trousdale (unaware of his wounding) with a plea for fifty experienced men to overrun the Mexican gun position. This runner ran right past General Worth, who had come forward in disbelief to see Jackson in action. Captain Magruder rode forward, and as soon as he came into the open, his horse was killed. He kicked and cuffed enough gunners out of cover to manhandle the remaining gun into position, despite the damage, and then stepped back to let Jackson do his work. General Worth sent orders to Jackson to retire. He blandly replied that it was too dangerous to cross that ground again. So Worth sent forward a brigade, which was able to advance almost to the redoubt while the Mexican artillery tried to silence the two little American pop guns and their lunatic officer--to no avail. The Mexicans running back to the castle were followed hard on their heels by the Americans, and the defense of the castle collapsed within an hour of Jackson telling his men that there was no danger.

The resulting race for the city gates became the stuff of legend, as did Jackson's behavior. One junior infantry Lieutenant, "Sam" Grant, did essentially the same thing in manhandling some guns into position to attack the San Cosme gate. Jackson had found two wagons, and appropriated the limbers and the horses to drag his guns to the San Cosme causeway. Scott was anxious to assault the city itself before Santa Anna could organize an effective defense. There Jackson met two officers, Lieutenants Daniel Harvey Hill and Barnard Bee, both of whom had gotten out in front as well, and both of whom would figure prominently in Jackson's civil war career. All over the the field, junior officers like Grant, Jackson, Hill and Bee were rushing forward without regard to organization and danger, and probably with an eye to their careers, but it worked. The city fell.

--------------------------------

Jackon became a part of the occupation forces in the city of Mexico, as the commissioners haggled over just what the Mexicans would inevitably be obliged to give up, and just how much the United States would be willing to pay. Jackson had never shown much inclination for formal religion, but while in adolescence had been influenced by a Jackson clan member who was a clergyman, and had studied the bible with a companion during one of the winter teaching sessions in which he had participated in the late 1830's. Now, in Mexico City, he applied for an audience with the Archbishop, and was granted fifteen minutes. They talked for over two hours. The Archbishop liked the young mountain man so much, that he saw to it that he was sent invitations to the soirées of the most socially prominent Mexican families. Jackson's letters to Laura show that he thoroughly enjoyed himself, particularly in the religious discussions with the Archbishop, and that he never for a moment entertained a thought of practicing Catholicism. Like many "West Pointers," Jackson at the least paid lip service to the unofficial established religion of the USMA, the Episcopal Church. There is no evidence, however, that he was any more taken with Episcopalianism than with Catholicism. Depsite his later reputation, and obviously sincere devotion to Protestantism in general and Presbyterianism in particular, he was for practical purposes, "unchurched" at this time.

Jackson did not return home to a hero's welcome, nor would he have wanted it that way. He was grateful to have been mentioned in reports, and still considered that all credit was due to the unit commanders, including the haughty John Magruder. Jackson was determined upon a military career, and was eventually assigned to the forces in Florida, after service at Carlyle Barracks in Pennsylvania, north of a little hamlet named Gettysburg. Whether or not he actually ever saw Gettysburg, i don't believe anyone can say. That he did not live to see it in 1863 is usually advanced as one of the reasons for Lee's defeat there. In Florida, his commander was Major William K. French, who had been the young Lieutenant about whose exploits Jackson had been sceptical in Mexico. The detail is irrelevant, but Jackson and French clashed, and only the authority of superior officers prevented board inquiries and courts martial. When a representative arrived from Virginia to offer him a place at Virginia Military Insitute, Jackson did not think long before taking up the offer. Not yet thirty, with an undistinguished career at the Military Academy, a military career under fire which some characterized as foolhardy, and no preparation, Jackons became the professor of Natural and Experimental Philosophy--which is to say, science, the field for which he was probably least qualified.

(Sketch . . . continued)

In Lexington, Jackson slowly settled into the community. At the Institute, despite his deficiencies for his position (commented upon by a great many of the underclassmen and graduates), he was on firm ground. He had his duty, and his students had theirs, and he would assure the faithful execution of both. He also took charge of artillery drill, and gladly substituted for parade ground drill (essential to the tactical doctrine of the day) whenever asked. Jackson had a choice of churches, but although he briefly atended Grace Church, he did not long remain, which suggests that he was not devoted to Epsicopalianism, even though baptized in that sect after returning from Mexico. He also had some time for the ladies, and after a few missteps, settled upon both Presbyterianism and Miss Elinor ("Ellie") Junkin. Jackson's life was not idyllic, but it more than satisfied his view of "God's in his heaven, and all's right with the world." Significantly, in comparison to accounts circulating after the Civil War, the papers of cadets and graduates in this period show that Jackson was considered a very odd duck, and not generally well-liked. He was well-respected, however, and only had two significant run-ins with cadets. One ended with the court martial of a senior cadet, who then challenged Jackson to a duel, promising to murder him on sight if he did not respond. Major Jackson (as he was known, in deference to his brevet rank from the Mexican War) did not consider that his honor would allow him, a military academy professor, to accept such a challenge, or even acknowledge it, coming from a (now former) cadet. Otherwise, however, Jackson was respected, and a great many of the cadets were affectionately amused by this quirky man, even the underclassman obliged to act as artillery horses, because the Institute possessed six field pieces, but no drays.

Tragedy struck Jackson's life on the par with the separation from his mother, in 1854. Ellie was delivered of a stillborn son in October, and though appearing healthy, was dead of internal bleeding within a few hours. Jackson was devestated, but the support of the Presbyterian clergy with whom he had become good friends, as well as the community of his church, helped him through this bad time, and likely was responsible for the deep, visionary faith he afterwards expressed. One of his early friends in Lexington was Daniel Harvey Hill, of South Carolina, who had graduated the USMA at the time of Jackson's matriculation. Hill had married the daughter of a clergyman, Isabel Morrison of North Carolina, and her sisters came to visit. One of these, Mary Anna, usually simply known as Anna, made an impression on Jackson. When his period of mourning was ended after the death of Ellie, he was strongly urged by the large community of clergymen into which he had been welcomed to find another wife. For a mind such as his, this sort of exhortation held the same authority as a military command. Anna Morrison became his second wife. As she too was a clergyman's daughter, Jackson was lead into an ever-widening circle of Protestant clergy, and not simply of Presbyterians. The effect would be important in his life as no other factor, other than his mother Julia, would ever be. All the while, the United States slid and stumbled down a sorrowful, long slope to war.

As a professor of the military institute, Jackson was at the least nominally an officer of Virginia forces. With secession, he took a fatalistic view befitting an adult convert to Presbyterianism--a Divine Providence had visited a curse upon his nation, which could only be removed by devout adherence to faith and bloody war. His former father-in-law, the Reverend Junkin, fumed and railed against secession, and finally blew up at the refusal of the professors of the institute to interfer when the students removed the national flag and replaced with a banner of Virginia. Junkin left for Pennsylvania forever with two daughters, while the rest of his family remained in Virginia. It was never simply a rhetorical device to that generation of Americans to say that the war pitted brother against brother.

On the sabbath, April 21st, 1861, a messenger arrived at Jackson's door from the Acting Superintendant, Colonel Preston. With fewer than 50 cadets left behind for various reasons, 176 cadets would be inspected at 10:00 a.m., break their fast, and form up to march at 12:30 p.m., to leave immediately for Richmond under the command of Major Jackson, who would then apply for his own appointment to duty once in the capital. Jackson was at first enthusiastic, until his eyes lit on Anna. His eyes filled with tears, and it was with the greatest difficulty that she helped into his old blue uniform, with the blue cadet's cap--both of which he would wear throughout the war until the Cavalier James Ewell Brown Stuart bought him a tailored new uniform in the autumn of 1862. Repeatedly kissing his bride, he finally turned, left the house, closed the door, and mounting, rode to VMI. He would never see his home again.

Despite the legends, the cadets did not march 36 miles in nine hours, leaving the guns and wagons behind, and foreshadowing Jackson's famous "foot cavalry." Arriving at Staunton, Jackson and the cadets "took the cars" to the capital, and were not particularly noticed, as militia units and voluteer regiments had been entraining for days. Arriving in Richmond, with the new Provisional Confederate Government setting up just then, Jackson was given a commission as a Major of Topographical Engineers (in Anna's words, he found the assignment "distasteful"). Jackson responded to orders, however, and his cadets were detailed to the dozens of units then occupying "Camp Lee" to instruct them in basic drill, and Jackson with a dozen of the cadets went to instruct new gunners in artillery drill, under command of the Virginia Brigadier in charge of the state's artillery--John Bankhead Magruder. Jackson was sufficiently well known both in western Virginia and from VMI in the Valley of Virginia, that another of his friends, Governor Letcher, was soon approached about this waste of talent. Jackson would follow orders, and never question them, but others would and did. Jackson was given a commission as Colonel of state troops. On April 27, he was summoned to the Governor's mansion, and informed of his commission, and his assignment to take command of the state forces at Harper's Ferry. When state troops had swarmed into the arsenal there on April 18, the Federal troops (fewer than 50) had fired the buildings and fled. About 10,000 of 15,000 muskets had been damaged beyond repair, but the gunsmith's shop had been saved, as well as the other vital machinery of the arsenal. Jackson arrived to find chaos, but never showed the least doubt of his own authority and what needed done. The public property was immediately shipped to Richmond, depsite howls of protest from militiamen and their officers who had to disarm their own men. Jackson decided they could make pikes, and drill with those until such time as either Virginia or the Provisional Goverment, in their wisdom, decided to arm them.

Jackson was once again to be seen as the "odd duck," and grumbled against. For his own part, there were never any doubts. He personally felt that Virginia should "raise the black flag" and give no quarter to any invader. His notion was that the most humane way to war was to end it quickly, and that this could only be accomplished by the unrelenting pursuit of the enemy to his defeat. His unmovable devotion to a concept of duty and of total victory were with him on the Henry House Hill, when Barnard Bee of South Carolina, who had stood with him at the San Cosme gate in Mexico, was trying to rally his broken brigade reeling under the hammer blows of the Federals by a little creek known as Bull Run. Bee, now a Confederate Brigadier, was mortally wounded, and likely knowing that he was dying called out: "There stands Jackson, like a stone wall." Some commentators claimed that it was said bitterly, because Jackson had been placed there, and would stay there, even though Bee hoped he would come to the aid of his broken brigade. Others claimed that Bee was attempting to get his men to rally on Jackson's position. Whatever the truth of the matter, the newspapermen snapped up the quote, and he has been known to American history ever since as . . .



Stonewall Jackson

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